What Dreams May Come
by AlwaysCastle
Summary: During an ordinary wind down from a case. Castle finds himself in a predicament:his partner has fallen asleep on him. He soon finds out that Kate Beckett is indeed a cuddler...a frisky one at that. Co Authored with Kimmiesjoy
1. The Beginning

**A/N Hey everybody! This is a little bit of wickedness I have teamed up to write with Kimmiesjoy! And as she would say: "and where wicked leads, madness follows!" Enjoy!**

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><p>It takes him a while before he realizes the time, he's yawning, eyes roaming the darkness of Kate's apartment. Its pitch black aside from the TV flickering, light re bounding around the room, it's volume low. It was meant to be on for background noise while they poured over the case, soon becoming a distraction when the day weighed them down and tiredness drove them to the couch.<p>

Files and papers are strewn about the coffee table, a few cartons of takeout scattered about. And Kate, who he swears was talking a few minutes ago, lays slightly against his side. Heavy against him as she relaxes in her sleep. He guesses he drifted someplace else. Her voice in his mind like a sexy voice over. Just merely talking about the evidence in the current case. But even that is a turn on. Her voice alone. The dips, the husk. He imagines what it would be like to have her purring nonsensical things into his ear. She could be saying anything and he would be enraptured, completely taken, and speechless.

Maybe he dozed off, maybe he just zoned out.

Where did the time go?

Apparently it's been a while, his shoulders ache from the angle his head fell into, and there is a pleasant numbness where she rests on him. By the feel and sound of it, Kate is deeply asleep at his side and all he can hear is her shallow breaths. The steady, reassuring, rise and fall of her chest against his arm, and the tiny sound of voices from the TV.

He doesn't dare look at her while he carefully searches for the remote. If he does... he will never leave. Better to locate the remote, shut the TV off, clean up and leave. Oh! _And_ lock the door on his way out so he's not tempted to return. Even now his fingers are tingling. So badly wanting to reach out to her. He draws both hands into fists.

_Where is the remote?_

Kate sighs in her sleep.

_Dammit. _

He just looked.

Sees a smile flicker across her face in the darkness. The light from the TV casting a perfect glow on her beautiful face. He remembers how it looks in the moonlight. Perfect skin cast in a perfect contrast of light and shadow as they wait at a crime scene. Or that night undercover. He thinks of it all the time.

He can see her eyes moving behind her eyelids, and now he wonders what she is dreaming about. This soft flicker of those greens, flecked with brown. As he stares, now transfixed, he can almost see them, outlined with those lashes.

God those eyelashes.

_Focus!_

Where is that remote? He scans the table and the floor, what he can see of it without disturbing her.

_There it is._

How did it end up on the back of the couch? More importantly how is he going to get it?

It's behind Kate and she's currently asleep against him. He would have to pull his arm up and out from her warm body, which means moving and she's _so_ warm. Still staring down at her, he looks between her sleeping form, so peaceful, to the damn remote teetering on the back of the couch. He ponders his next move, she's not completely lent into him, so if he just, _ever_so slowly, moves his arm.

Castle starts to move, as he thinks the action his body starts to comply. But then her hair is tickling the back of his arm. He freezes, his arm tingling at the soft tresses. He had pulled his sleeve up earlier, literally rolling them up to dive into work, and then dinner, and now wishes he hadn't. He feels the soft slip of her hair as it slides off him, until his arm meets the cool air of her apartment.

He's free.

Regretfully.

With his arm now up over her head, his eyes snap to the remote, and he goes for it. She moves on a sigh. His body tenses.

_Oh my god_, she's humming in her sleep and her arm is sliding over his midsection.

He's frozen in place.

With his arm on the back of the couch fingers barely touching the remote, he can feel his muscles go taut in his abdomen. He tries not to tremble, his breath caught in his throat. Kate hums softly once more, he can feel it in her fingers as they move upwards.

And now her face is crooked in a wicked smile. He wonders for a minute, just a split second, if she's awake, if it means something more. His heart quickens at the idea. The urge to make a joke about this being some sort of come on hangs on his tongue. It dies away in the darkness of her apartment, when he sees her face still so relaxed.

She's still asleep. He can tell by her breathing, the way her eyes flicker again behind her eyelids. She's in a deep sleep. And she has no idea what she's doing. With her own body or to his, she is completely clueless.

Castle takes a chance while she is still, and clasps his hand around the remote moving his arm down before clicking it off.

The room goes dark.

She might kill him when she wakes up, but he lets his arm come down lightly around her. And then she's moving again. Up, up, seeking out his warmth.

When did it get cold in here?

With her hand now at the collar of his shirt, her head rests on his clavicle. Her hot breath against his neck, rising goosebumps, and an electrical current spreads rapidly from that point on.

His lungs are burning.

_Oh right. Breathe._

He does, finally.

The air whooshing out of his mouth faster then he wanted. It ghosts across her hair, her forehead. Her hand tightens, and his body is so tense it hurts. Something wet touches his neck and he gasps, can't hold in the noise that could wake her as it rushes past his lips. His eyes widen and every nerve in his body is on high alert. Kate's mouth is open against the skin of his throat.

Everything is still.

His body is humming, her breath and lips against his flushing skin. He hears it first. That sexy moan of hers, and then she's rising up just a bit more, and she kisses his neck again. He can hear it, feel the warmth of her delicious lips on his skin. Her arm comes up, the other one which he lost track of, moves around his neck, tickling the back of his head. Her body shifts closer, turning her front into him.

She's practically on her knees on the couch. The top of her head brushes his chin. His head moves instinctively upwards and away from her touch. He gasps again when two things happen at once. First, her nails dig into the back of his head, and two, her lips have traveled with three open mouth kisses until they reach his jugular.

_Is that her tongue?_

His neck pulsates. "Kate." He whispers, gulping. Her grip only tightens, but her mouth stops, laying open yet flush with his skin.

"Mmm." She hums against him.

His eyes widen, and he takes in a sharp inhale, holds his arms up away from her body. But god does he want to touch her... just not like this.

She doesn't even know she's doing this. Killing him softly. She tortures him enough in the waking hours. But this? This is a whole new brand of suffering. Her body so warm against his, her breath along his skin.

And those lips.

Castle hums at the feel of her lips still at his throat. She moves at his vibrations. Her lips come off his skin, chilling it in her absence, and her head tucks under his chin. She smiles, he can feel it at his clavicle again. Her body relaxes, curling into him, and she shivers in the cold.

Castle sighs. Letting his arms come down. One fisting in the blanket to his right, the other lightly brushing her back on its way down. He waits several moments before he makes anymore movements. But when Kate does not shift, or wake. He finally lets his body relax. His heart easing against his sternum, which he is sure she can hear in her slumber. After another moment of silence, aside from his breathing mingling with hers. He pulls the blanket over them. And as he closes his eyes. She rubs her cheek against his chest on a small sigh. He smiles, and lets his hand rest lightly at her waist, before allowing sleep to overtake him.

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><p><strong>Part one of two! May or may not turn into a multi chapter fic.<strong>

** Stay tuned.**

** And of course... reviews are always.. _always_ welcome...always...**


	2. Chapter 2

Kate is sitting, not quite curled up, next to Castle. Close enough that her feet, which are pulled up from the floor and wrapped beneath her, just skim the edge of his leg. She has the remote is in her hand behind her head. Her other hand holding a document on their current case. She's pondering aloud about what some of the financials might lead them to. She has a suspect in mind, waits to see if their weird connect allows his mind to pick the same person, all the while tapping the remote on the back of the couch.

She looks over, seeing that he's not even listening. Castle seems lost in a weird commercial about extendable mops, and she knows from the glassy, far away look in his eyes, that he is just as tired as she is. The TV, or her voice, at this point she's not so sure anymore, is lulling him to sleep. Her hand stops pounding the remote into the cushions behind her head, it's too heavy in her hand even though she finds herself tempted to change channels just to annoy him, but then it starts to slip from her fingers. Her head feeling heavy.

Kate lets it rest on the cushion behind her, the one that wasn't there a moment ago, the one Castle must have slipped there when she wasn't paying attention. She should ask… but then, she's drowsily tipping forward, fighting to keep her eyes open.

The paper flutters to the ground, and she mumbles something as her eyes start to close. Something about it being late, he should go…_no stay_…she's not sure, because her body is migrating towards him against her will. But really, she's not fighting it, can't move enough to try. She wouldn't if she could.

She doesn't want to fight it anymore...

It doesn't matter because he doesn't move or speak and she drifts into a much needed slumber. Falling against his left side, abandoning the comfort of the cushion, the warmth of his arm a far nicer pillow for her sleepy head.

The last thing she hears before she surrenders is the long drawn out sigh of her own breath leaving her body as she relaxes contently in the space she occupies with her partner.

The dreams come in waves.

At first it's simple, he buys her coffee and its good and its warm and she wraps her fingers around it and smiles. Brings it up to her lips, taking in the smell. It's his smell, heated and entrancing as it raises from the steamy cup, him and the faint aroma of vanilla, but it's mainly him she inhales.

She sighs before taking a sip, well aware she is drinking Castle in as she does, not bothered by it, enjoying it. But they are outside and its cold, and she wants heat and warmth. The hot steam from the coffee rises and its cold when it hits her face. The contrast between warm and cold confuses her.

But it's okay because now she's on the couch and he is offering to buy her a mop, _has_bought her a mop, against her stubborn denial. She doesn't need a mop. She already has one. But he shows her anyway. Trying to convince her that this mop is better, he knows a guy, always knows a guy. A mop guy with insider information. With his hand on the long handle, his eyes firmly locked with hers as he extends it, there is heat behind his words and the impulse to touch him rushes through her. He pulls a face, a raise of eyebrows that means more than it should, and she laughs.

Innuendo as he teases her.

She hums her approval as he sits next to her, warm at her side, feeling his strong body against her. All she wants to do is move in closer. But suddenly she's so cold. Again she doesn't understand. She looks over at him. He's focused on the TV and doesn't pay any attention to her as she curls into his side. Castle is normally so in tune with her it sets her teeth on edge when he doesn't immediately respond. She wants his response, suddenly needy for it.

Curled into him, he must be suddenly aware of her desire but the only thing he does to acknowledge her is place a hand on her thigh, rubbing up and down absently. She lets out another hum before her dream changes.

The dreams are blurry around the edges and Esposito is on the TV dancing with Lanie, no the Captain, no its Lanie again. But Castle keeps changing the channels and she tugs the remote from his hand and she throws it behind her.

Behind her.

She sees movement and rises to get a better look.

There is a gorilla in the hallway.

Hiding.

She puts her hand on the back of the couch, brushing against Castle's head, she strokes his hair, trying to get his attention and show him the Gorilla. He does nothing, and the gorilla shrinks way. She tries to coax it out of hiding, finding herself frustrated when it just disappears out of sight.

Castle is still ignoring her, she can feel his body tense at her side. He's hard, harsh, she likes it, it's reality and in nonsense.

He's still in the show though, lost, his focus on characters that don't exist, there is nothing new in that but its not fair. He's not hers.

She wants him back.

She wants _him_.

She rolls into his warmth, his position perfect as she fits herself against him, her arm trawling his chest, fingers at his neck.

She groans because he refuses to respond, she's on fire for him just by laying against him and he's watching commercials about Ryan and Jenny buying furniture. She rolls into him more, suddenly so cold, her knees drawing up and its cold, so cold, and the walls tinge blue and her breath is white mist in front of her.

All she wants to do is curl into his warmth and tell him she loves him in case they never get out of the damn freezer. He calls her name, soft and confused like he doesn't know how they got there and she wants to comfort him, only she's still cold.

She presses her lips into something warm and soft, trying to escape the chill, touches again because it feels good. She loves the heat, luxuriates in it and lets out a moan of contentment.

Once again her mouth seeks the warmth below them, opens wide and draws it in, brushing the cold skin of her bottom lip over heavenly heat. She doesn't know what she closes her lips over, it doesn't matter because its hot and its soft and it smells so good, _too_ good. Safe and familiar and perfect.  
>Her hand slips to his hair, nails and all, because it's so cold in the freezer and they need to feel, need to be awake.<p>

Only they aren't in the freezer.

That was before, that was…past.

And the walls aren't blue anymore.

She's sitting in her chair at the precinct. She's not trapped, her breath does not come out hallow or in white puffs indicating the last moments of her existence. Her heart is still beating normally in her chest. That is until she sees Castle step out of the elevator with her coffee. Her heart beats a hundred times faster at each step he takes towards her, and he's moving in slow motion as he approaches. Her heart will leave her chest and race to him if he doesn't move faster. And then he's setting the coffee down on her desk in front of her with that smile she loves so much. The one that reaches his brilliant blue eyes, the blue that tinged the walls around her. Maybe she wasn't lost in the freezer, maybe she was lost in him.

"Good morning, Beckett." He says, but his words are tricky, lost in the mechanical hum of the machine and buzz of voices bear by.

It doesn't matter what he really says because she hears what she wishes, what she craves. "Good morning my heart." She resists the urge to reply with an 'I love you'. It dies on her lips like it did the first time in the freezer. Instead she smiles at him, lifting the cup to her lips to taste the delicious coffee. His coffee. The best coffee.

Everything goes black

There is a loud audible gasp in her ear and she stumbles through bleary eyed sleep to the realization she has her lips pressed against Castle's throat and her fingers in his hair. His body is tense. An angry clenched muscle below her coiled relaxed body and she tries not to smile in satisfaction.

Her waking dream is vivid because she's sure she sent him home. Sure it's just another one of her musings. Lost efforts to wile away time until he's really hers and the bricks and mortar of fallen walls lay tumbled at her feet.

He gets to her, with tender gestures and gentle hand touches, soft circles against her skin, so she gets to him using her body. In sleep it seems she seeks him out to tease to taste, her lips move against his throat again.

Tasting Castle.

Not coffee.

He tastes better. Her tongue slides between her lips daring her to ignore the truth, he tastes better than the richest, strongest coffee she has ever tasted.

He hums, or murmurs or sighs and she's not really awake yet, not enough to care she's spread herself across his chest. Her brain can't think itself in circles yet. So she sighs into the soft salted taste of his skin under her lips and sinks back into the comfort of his arms. His arms, his huge muscular arms, which have wrapped around her as she slept, no roaming. Always the gentleman, when she wishes that he would just stop being so...charming for once and just act. Act on the impulses she has too much control over and take the power from her.

But he won't.

So she gives into what he'll offer. Sinks lower because he's warm and gentle and soft and kind and his words…they mean so much, but not as much as his constant heart beat in her ear. She rubs herself against it, cheek to chest as she makes contented noises, settles into the steady thud thud thud that lulls her back to sleep. She feels him react, surrender himself, muscles cramped and harsh begin to ease and she slips further under into dreamless sleep, who needs dreams when she is warm and can still hear his heart beat.

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><p><strong>Review for more...teasing. lol<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Kate's on the edge of sleep, tentative steps between awake and not when the excessive ringing keeps trying to pull her out of her delicious dreams. Its piercing and harsh and it breaks through her reverie making her scrunch her face and turn back into the soothing warmth beside her.

She reaches out, eyes closed. Fingers moving over her snug pillow, strong and firm underneath her weight. She's searching for the source of that damn disturbing noise, wanting to throw it across the room so she can have just a little bit longer in this warm haven.

Sleep fades around her, and her body starts to wake up. Her back aches from being curled and her knees are tender from being bent, her fingertips are scratchy…her eyes snap open when she feels a roughness under her hand. She leans away from the heated body beneath her, carefully so he doesn't wake, and sees her hand is splayed across her partners face.

His growing stubble is scratching at her palm, his face tilted towards hers in sleep, his nose and partially open mouth breathing onto her skin. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of him, and then all the nerves in her body are reacting at once. In-fighting erupts between her brain and her heart, both organs firing all sorts of conflicting things at her, she's having a hard time complying with either of them.

Move your hand!

No, caress his face!

Lay back down, ignore the phone!

_The phone. Right._

Kate's hand slips from his face to his chest, her body turning reluctantly away from him but she needs to find that phone before it wakes him up. She searches, all the while feeling the crease of his shirt on her face, the line indentation in her skin left by her previous position laying on his chest.

_His chest._

Oh so warm.

She needs to go back there, needs to wiggle and worm her body against the strong line of his side and settle herself into the cocoon of heat he gives off. It's a need she feels with every fiber of her being, an ache, a tender throb of her heart. There is a screaming, logical, voice in her head that she drowns out by re-enacting the simple echo of the words he spoke.

_I love you._

The phone stops ringing.

Something like relief crashes over her and she wonders if she could fit herself back into the space beside him without waking him up. Lift his arm and brings it around her shoulder, the one... that she has just realized, is conveniently placed at her backside. It must have slipped when she sat up. Kate bites her lip. Eyes shining despite her inner conflict. But she can't help but think of how easy it would be to just rest her knee against his thigh and sink back down into her couch.

Castle moans in his sleep turning his head further towards her, his chin brushing her knuckles. He follows her, even when he's unconscious. Her fingers itch to reach up, they actually sting at the tips in memory of the feel of his stubble against them. She pulls her lip into her mouth once more, running her tongue over the edge and its sore, a light burn on tender skin that normally means….her hand flies to her lips and she thinks she remembers kissing him. _Wasn't that a dream?_

Her other hand still lingers inches from his face, is daring her to close the distance and trace the line of his jaw. Her fingers move, not against her will, but without complete permission, and just before she's about to, just as they hover close enough to feel the warmth rise from his skin.

The damn phone starts again.

She leans into the noise, her body over his again and she can feel the heat rush to her cheeks as she spots the phone, its nestled under his thigh. Kate lifts her hand, fingers tentative. Slides them slowly underneath him as she removes it, watching his handsome face not move as the device is slipped out from under him. She cuts off the shrill ring as it breaks the calm.

"What?" She hisses into the phone.

"Whoa Beckett, what is up with you?"

She doesn't answer, she demands information in hushed whispers as she rises reluctantly from the couch.

It's Esposito. They have yet another body. She's already working a case with two victims and hardly any leads.

She sighs, the phone tucked in between her ear and neck as she writes down the address on the back of a napkin, discarded on the table from their impromptu picnic the night before. Her hand feels cold now, fingers lacking purpose even as they write, they want to be touching Castle not leaving him alone.

She turns to watch him as she ends the phone call, assuring Esposito that she will be on her way as soon as she's changed. Standing up she slips her phone into her coat pocket as she passes it and heads for the bathroom, the entire time it takes her to walk the length of her apartment her eyes are on the sleeping man on her couch.

She contemplates waking him, a soft caress at his cheek to rouse him, or more in keeping with their relationship as it stands. The harsh bark of his name from her lips to make him jump up fast. But she can't do it...and finding a pad of sticky notes in her office, she comes to the conclusion: that it's better to write a quick note for her partner and let him catch up on some much needed rest. With this other case on top of the double homicide they are already working, they will all surely be tired. She is going to need a fully charged Castle. The one who keeps her on her toes and makes her laugh, brings her coffee and can pull a smile from her weary team at the right moment. She's going to need his sharp mind, his focus and attention to detail, his insane theories and conspiracies.

So she leaves him on her couch, where he fits and looks at home, he can catch up with her when he wakes.

She jots a quick note, an explanation, and instructions for the locking the door when he leaves. She peels the note from the pad and wonders where best to leave it so he will find it when he wakes up.  
>Kate smiles, she knows where she wants to stick it, right smack dab in the middle of his face. <em>He<em> would do it. He would probably laugh the entire time and wake her in the process, but she's more subtle. She leans over him, fingers paused with the note over the furrows of his forehead before she pushes the sticky side gently but firmly against him. She swears to herself she does it for comic effect and not just so that when she pulls away, she can swipe her fingers through the soft brown hair that lays tussled over his forehead.

Her fingers are lingering again and she turns, whisks herself to the door grabbing her coat. Swinging the door open.. she pauses.. looking back at her couch. It takes everything in her not to go back, throw the case to someone else and curl back into Castle's body She's sure when she gets to the car she will finally let that moment sink in... waking up next to her partner.. and at least this time, there was no cuffs. Or a tiger...but there might have been a gorilla.

It isn't the click of the door as she closes it that wakes him In fact, he sleeps for at least another hour after Kate leaves. No. He'll stay here, ridiculously comfortable and completely at home, stretched the full length of her couch.

When Castle wakes, raising his arms high above his head he moans loudly, he does so with the full force of child like glee, feeling replenished and rested. He peeks one eye open to gauge the time and realization hits him that he is in Beckett's apartment. The minute his eyelid lifts he sees sunlight  
>streaming through her balcony window, bouncing down the strange steps that house just a part of her vast book collection.<p>

He rubs his hand across his face, waking himself up, confused as he draws his fingers away and a bright pink sticky note is stuck to it. He peels if off, sees Beckett's messy scrawl and he smiles. He lifts his fingers to his head again touching lightly where she pressed the note. As if feeling the ghost of her touch still warm against his skin.

She _stuck_ a note to his forehead. The smile becomes quiet laughter as he runs his middle finger along the tacky line left by the sticky note glue and his sleepy skin sweat.

She's a surprise and a contradiction, a playful enigma, a mystery he doesn't really want to solve because being caught off guard by her is exciting. It takes a lot to surprise him, and she does…daily!

She stuck a sticky note on his forehead rather than leaving it on the door or the table, and she did it with enough concentration that she didn't wake him. He reads the note again, an address, a command to shower and change BEFORE he arrives at the scene, instructions on how to lock the door and a demand he bring coffee.

Duh!

She crammed a lot onto such a small note but its not the words threaded through with authority that keeps him staring. It's the way she signed it, no Beckett no quickly initialed K.B, just a simple Kate.

And she kissed his neck.

He gets up stretching and needs to find his shoes, runs a hand under his collar and realizes his buttons are undone, the top three of his shirt, open…did she do it when she was touching him?

He can smell her all around him, even though he's been here long enough to acclimatise to it, it still surrounds him

Cherries...

Beckett, the inherent Kate that is laced through everything she has touched and moved, existed within her home. He hums, inhaling again, a contented movement as he rocks on his heels before  
>hunting down his shoes. Resisting the urge to put his fist in his mouth as he re-reads her note.<p>

He knows when he arrives at the precinct he will have to keep the smile from his face, but how will he? If their fingers brush he will remember her touch against his neck, her lips on his skin. Every gust of New York air is going to remind him of her breath. Every time it lifts the hair at the nape of his neck it will bring to mind the trailing of her nails through it in slumber.

This time his fist does go to his mouth, even though he is alone he uses the clenched digits to push the moan of sexual frustration back down. The ache of longing and the buried love. He scrunches the note in his hand as he does before shoving it into his pocket.

Then he's rushing to leave because he wants to see her. He marvels at the fact that she left him on his own in her home. She trusts him here, alone, in her safe place, the place where she shuts out the world. She invited him in, snuggled up to him on the couch and then left him here. Now he definitely has to bring her coffee. The biggest one he can find, and maybe something sweet.

As he locks and shuts her door behind him, looking off down her long hallway, he wonders how to casually slip into conversation that she was touching him. Could he tease her into a confession of remembrance? As he gets to the elevator he frowns at himself. Making a soft sound in disgust as he steps in.

_Stupid._

He shakes his head and decides against it. Although he might instead ask what she was dreaming about. He needs to be subtle. He makes a face... He can't be subtle. She touched him for god sakes! And kissed him! She hummed against his skin with those lips!

He pulls the note from his pocket, softly caressing the wrinkles out of it, and smoothing it out as if it was her skin under his touch, her hand, any part of her that needed soothing. His eyes distance themselves from the walls of the elevator long enough to almost miss the ground floor before it ascends again.

_Focus!_

He looks at the note again, runs his fingers over his messy hair. She stuck it to his face.

If he had done the same, tiptoeing to her and leaning over her sleeping body, he would have woken her for sure. Unless he was soft enough, quiet and gentle, maybe he could have gotten away with kissing her, his lips light to her head as he bent over her and…

Get it together Castle!

He reaches an arm out, catching the door before it closes and then adjusts his posture, upright and determined. He commands his brain to pay attention. Go get her coffee, and walk into the precinct as though her lips were not at his neck a few hours ago...

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><p><strong>AND review! or you won't get what comes next ;)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Kate sits at her desk, staring at both murders boards side by side. Two completely unrelated cases and her team had to work both. Half the homicide division is down with the flu, Ryan's barely hanging on as it is and they are run off their feet.

A coffee cup sits beside her, mocking her with its emptiness, it lack of flavor, in honesty its lack of Castle-ness. Kate growls under her breath and stands, leaning on the edge of her desk as if a change in angle will reveal something she's not seeing yet, and she really wants to snap her brain back to reality and away from being wrapped in his arms.

"Hey."

The hot rush of his breath in her ear startles her and she jumps away from the desk.

"Geeze Castle." She places a hand over her heart.

She turns to chastise him, only she can't, because as she moves she sees in one hand he's holding two precariously balanced, huge, cups of coffee, and they smell divine.

She leans into the smell her hand resting on his wrist now as she does and out of the corner of her eye she can see him fighting the smile. She clears her throat and leans back, swallowing away the intense sense of déjà vu brought about by the intimate contact, a vivid picture that the last time he had brought her coffee at the precinct she had…

_Oh god!_

Looking at him, as he takes his usual seat...she feels the entire night come flooding back. Every dream, every half waking touch and kiss, it's fuzzy around the edges but she remembers. Oh does she remember...

She remembers, stretching into his embrace, purring against his chest like a damn cat in heat as her dream addled brain told her she needed him to touch her, take notice of her, and if he wouldn't then she would make him. Her fingers dart to her lips and she remembers the earlier burn, Kate looks to  
>him quickly to see if he's noticed and fights her own smile as she sees he's trying to remove the note currently stuck to the tip of his finger as he waves it in front of her.<p>

"You could have woken me up you know" He hisses when she finally takes pity on him and pulls the paper loose. He sets down both cups before snatching the note she is now holding between his middle and index finger with a mixture of thanks and annoyance. Kate walks away from the edge of her desk.

She takes her coffee with her and sits in her chair. "You looked tired." she says, lifting the cup to her lips. As if to prove her point he yawns, hiding it behind the sticky note.

"And now we have two cases…long nights ahead of us Castle." He raises an eyebrow at her, grinning and sipping his own coffee. "One of us needed to be firing on all cylinders."

"You just want an able bodied lacky to fetch you coffee."

"Touché." She laughs before finally taking a long drink from her cup, humming loudly against the rim, her eyes closing.

He knows that moan, he has felt it against the raw pulse in his jugular and Castle's heart leaps out of his chest, forcing the coffee out of his mouth. He coughs and splutters, spraying the warm brown liquid all over his clothes and a now disgusted looking Beckett. She raises an eyebrow at him in a look somewhere between confusion and annoyance, brushing at her pant leg where his sprayed coffee has landed.

"Hot." He offers by way of explanation.

Kate rolls her eyes, throwing him another napkin before she swigs her own coffee again "Seems fine to me."

"Your tongue is a lot stronger than mine."

"It's like any muscle Castle," she says scooting back into the desk and starting to type "Use it or lose it." She flicks her eyes sideways at him just once before focusing completely back on the screen in front of her.

* * *

><p>"Do you own a mop?" Kate asks an hour later, still chasing down suspects on the second case; one is a janitor and since she found that out her mind has been filled with images of Castle slowly extending a mop handle like he did in her dream.<p>

"What?" He asks

"Do. You. Own a mop?" She asks as if it is the simplest question in the world and he is completely dense.

"I think so." He tilts his head to one side questioningly.

"How would you _not_ know?"

He shrugs, "Hey, it's possible I own one I have never used!"

"You let your daughter clean the whole apartment don't you?" She asks almost ashamed of him. But not surprised.

He grinned "Not the WHOLE apartment, but she is very well trained. Why do you want to know if I had a mop anyway?"

"I had a dream you bought me one." She replies nonchalant.

"You had a dream about me?" He asked his eyes lighting up before quickly looking disappointed "And I bought you a mop? I wonder what it means." He looks away off somewhere, that adorable look he gets when he is pondering something nonsensical.

"It means. I had too much Chinese food before I fell asleep."

"No." He says seriously, "Dreams often have hidden meanings, things out of context from reality that are in fact your subconscious mind operating on a higher level."

She makes a noise under her breath that sounds like "pfft."

He makes a tsk sound, shaking his head at her and his brow creasing so sternly she thinks he might really be ashamed of her. "This one time, I had a dream about being attacked by coyotes." He starts.

"Coyotes?" She implores, yet skeptical... but strangely curious. How does he elicit so many different feelings in her at once?

He actually rolls his eyes at her. "Yes a coyote, would I joke about a coyote attack?" He asks in all seriousness, but she can't help the mirth bubble up inside her at the absurdity of this conversation.

"No, Castle." She humors him. "I guess not."

He seems to take it. "Anyway. I was attacked by these viscous Coyotes." He's getting all animated and she lifts a hand to her mouth to cover her smile. " And when I woke up, I had to know what it meant."

"Let me guess." She says crossing her arms and fixing him with one of her looks. "You did research for Derrick Storm."

"Nope." He pops the P. "Just for fun." His eyes dance.

"So what does it mean to be attacked by coyotes in your dreams?" She deadpans.

He grins, all self-satisfied. "That I was struggling with my own selfish needs."

"Oh really, and what were those?"

"I wanted to have the blue light saber because it matched my eyes, but it was Alexis favorite color."

Kate outright laughs, if she was drinking her coffee she would have spit it ALL over him, and then they would have been even.

Castle sits back in his chair, crossing his arms and not looking at her. "I don't know what me buying you a mop says about your subconscious Beckett." He replies, and then he eyes her oddly.

"Maybe it means I want you to clean up your mess." She answers, pointing to his discarded coffee cup. "Hey! Maybe it just means I want you to clean my apartment." She laughs "I'll get you an apron and a duster." She laughs again utterly amused now.

"Fantasizing about me in a French maids outfit Beckett?"

She stops laughing. "No." she states firmly, truthfully because she was actually picturing him shirtless, mop in hand. Which is so much better. Easier access to skin..._okay stop it Kate, you're acting like you're in heat again, any minute now you'll be rubbing up against him again._

"Can I fantasize about YOU in a French maids outfit?" He asks rocking on his heels grinning. Obviously no longer mad at her for making fun of him. It's cute, and he can never stay mad for long.

"Do what you like on your own time Castle. But no picturing me in black silk stockings at work." She turns in her chair, to face her computer, now having a better hold on herself... she thinks.

"Too late," He replies waggling his eyebrows at her behind her back. "I bought you a mop?" He asks again after a few seconds.

She nods looking sheepish over her shoulder, but then turning to him once again. "Yeah just before the gorilla came in and I tried to show you but you were…what?"

She looks up and catches his wide mouthed look of shock "A…a gorilla?" He queries

"Yeeeah" She draws the word out not seeing the significance.

"Like a big…monkey kinda gorilla?" He asks, his face now scaring her because he looks like a kid who just found his presents early.

"Yes. Is there any other kind?" Her voice is pinched now, annoyance shining through but he can't see it, too lost in his own head

"Seriously? A gorilla?"

"Castle."

He laughs.

"Okay." She says, "I give up Castle. What is oh so funny about a Gorilla?"

"In dreams…Gorilla's symbolize your _primitive_ impulses, wild nature and repressed sexual energy."

Her eyes grow wide. "Oh" she says quietly…_Oh!_

"But you said it was…hiding?"

She nods.

"And you were trying to … err… show it…to _me_?"

Oh she does not like where this is going.

"Well a gorilla in hiding would suggest…" He swallows, his eyes flicking to her hip and the gun she had holstered there. "Would…suggest pent up sexual frustration."

She scrunches her face in realization, as she tries, really tries, not to blush, or laugh or in any way give him anything else to tease her with "I tried to show you my gorilla." She clamps her hand over her mouth, failing miserably as she realizes what she had said, how…dirty it sounded, her eyes  
>wide as Castle starts to laugh.<p>

He gets to his feet slowly leaning in to whisper as he walks past "Anytime Kate, anytime."

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><p><strong>You know you want to review after a treat like that ;)<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Written by ****AlwaysCastle**** and ****Kimmiesjoy**

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><p>Kate's tired, Castle can tell by the fact that her entire upper body is slumped into the support of her left arm as her right hand controls the mouse. Each blink, each descent of her eyelids is followed by an even slower ascent, a mountainous climb that takes every drop of energy she has left to complete. As he watches, Castle notices the gaps, where her eyes are actually open, are getting fewer and farther between.<p>

All signs of her previous embarrassment over her dreams, are gone, and surely forgotten. The wall is not up right now. Her defenses are down...he might be able to get away with a thing or two.

Like the staring.

She's too busy trying to fight with her eyelids to pay him any attention and if the other night is any indicator, Kate Beckett seeks the comforts while asleep. Just like any other person on this earth. But who would know it, really? She hides behind that tenacity. She's a warrior, a fighter, even when it comes to sleep, she refuses to let it claim her, and Castle is riveted by the battle. She will persevere, she will rise above, but she's human, and sleep is a fundamental necessity.

Kate's head slips a little further into the groove of her left arm, her mouth a soft O as the yawn escapes her, long, drawn out and seeking. Castle wonders, if he was sitting closer, if she would seek him out again. Well maybe he doesn't have to wonder. That side of her, the clingy part of her, comes out in moments like these. She would of course never admit to it. Kate Beckett doesn't want to lean on anyone. It makes her feel weak, he thinks. Like she is failing herself, she has to hold herself upright for what is still to come.

But then again...

Castle props an elbow up on the desk, resting his cheek in his palm. He sighs, a long breath out his mouth almost like a whimper. But then again, he has noticed a change in her. She's hasn't been so hell bent on pushing him away, on insisting she can do things herself. It's the small things she allows that makes this enough for now. How she lets him feed her without stubborn complaint, help her with her coat. Have her over for dinner with his mother and daughter. The smiles she offers instead of eye rolls.

Kate's eyes fall closed. And then snap back open. He smiles at how adorable she is. He almost can't take it.

She reminds him of a cartoon character, not Daphne in her purple mini dress, but maybe something more Disney-ish, he thinks she'd have matchsticks holding her eyes open, bright red streaks through the whites of her eyes and a string of 'zzzzz's in a bubble over her head.

He can't blame her though, it's late, really late. The precinct is eerily quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of late-shift Uni's who meander back and forth, filing reports, collecting data and stopping for quick blasts of coffee, police fuel as they keep the streets safe.

Kate forced Ryan to leave around 4 o'clock, when his queasy moans and green tinged face were becoming more of a distraction than a help. Esposito took up as much of the slack as he could but around ten even he had had enough, barely putting up any resistance when she ordered him home.

When her head slumps, her hand stills over the mouse and the fingers of her left hand dangle over her face loosely Castle knows she has finally succumbed.

"Beckett?" Castle leans closer and peers at her sleeping face. Her soft, oh so soft when pressed against his skin, lips are slightly parted and her earlier bun has given up trying to hold her rebellious tendrils at bay. The soft waves of her hair fall over her face enough that for him to be able to stare at her, drink her in and get lost in her, the way he wants to. He will have to tuck the dark strands behind her ear.

He stands and walks the distance around the desk until he is almost leaning over her.

Castle reaches his hand forward, and fingers gently pull the loose hair under his fingers, lighter than the last time he fisted his hand through it, and lifts it tenderly to tuck it behind her ear. He moves slowly, doesn't want to wake her and when he reaches her ear, hair slipping free from the tips of his fingers he can't help but touch her. His thumb moves and runs along the soft outer shell of her ear, a burning trail of flame under the skin as she moves into it.

Kate's head tips towards him in sleep, again seeking him out, and Castle freezes as the almost inaudible moan leaves her mouth again. But she's asleep on a desk and her own voice is enough to disturb her, sleep fades around her yet again.

"Castle what are you doing?" Kate opens her eyes but doesn't move, the pupils of her greens flicking to question his hand, or rather his thumb on the edge of her ear.

"I was just … going to wake you we should go home."

She looks at him questioningly.

"_Separately_…to our own separate homes, it's late and you're falling asleep." He can't help the tender way he says this. His hand is still touching her face and he's not sorry, because she reacts to it in a way she would never allow if she were fully awake.

But then it's gone.

She's trying to be awake again. "Coffee," she mutters sitting up and stretching.

"Kate." He implores, his hand drops slowly and now rests at his side, tingling. He walks the short distance to his chair and sits down in it heavily.

"Castle." She says fixing an eye on him "I've got three dead bodies, two separate cases and I'm down _another_ Detective." Yep… there is the stubborn woman he knows. "I'm going for coffee and _then_ I'm going to sit back down at my desk and catch a couple of killers." She gives him a weak smile then. "Go home, Castle if you're tired it's fine it's…" She trails off, yawning into the back of her hand and turning away.

"Hey if you're here I'm here, I'm your partner remember?" He says.

She twists around, her affection towards their moniker turned endearment shows all over her face, and yet her voice is skeptical. "At 1am?"

"Yes at…wait its 1am?" He asks, turning over his wrist to check his watch.

She nods.

Damn.

He goes to shrug, looking up from his watch but she has already gone into the break room. He considers getting up. But realizes he can't. His body is sore from a chase this afternoon that turned out to be for nothing. Sitting for so long without really moving has stiffened his joints, but he has no regrets. He got to watch the steady rise and fall of Kate's chest, her eyelids, everything in a battle against fatigue.

Castle smiles to himself, his eyes crinkling in the corner in the way that only she can evoke, this, coupled with the heated rush and the swelling of his heart are proof enough, he loves her and he feels it all.

It's moments like these, that are both a blessing and a burden, that make him ache for her in ways he's never felt before, and he is strangely content with it.

His eyes droop. His head, which is back in his hand, starts to weigh down on his palm. So much so that his elbow slips from the desk and his head nearly crashes to the hard surface. He takes in a sharp startled snort of inhaled air through his nose, and then blinks a few times looking around. Kate has not come back yet.

How long has it been?

Standing up, he lets his equilibrium even out, and then makes his way to the break room. He doesn't hear anything. Not the Uni's or the janitor. Not the sound of coffee filling a coffee cup. It's as though the precinct has stopped breathing.

Which is exactly what he does when he sees her.

He actually gasps, and then that pleasantly painful pang of longing shoots straight through his heart.

Kate Beckett.

No, _just_ Kate, is fast asleep on the break room couch.

Castle lets his feet carry him to her side, where he crouches down in front of her utterly relaxed form and breaths her in. What a sight. This time he doesn't even try to stop the hand that reaches out to her. Feeding a strand of her chestnut hair between two fingers, Castle leans in close enough to feel her breath on his face. His fingers slide along her cheek then, over the beauty mark he would love to kiss, and the one under her eye.

In sleep, she's not the Detective, with hard armor and the fight weighing heavy, spearing her soul. There is no dark lack of justice at her back, snapping at her heels waiting to pounce. No precipice at her feet waiting for her to stumble.

In sleep she isn't Beckett with authority in her rigid spine, determination, a force to be reckoned with and a prisoner behind the wall she built for herself.

As Castle gets back to his feet, he lifts her legs up, sitting down beside her and laying them across his lap. He is slow and moving with fluidity, he doesn't want to disturb her as he finally leans back into the couch, her legs across his knees.

He realizes, as he stares down at her sleeping form, she is barely even Kate, the damaged and healing girl he fell in love with, the woman that keeps him on his toes.

In sleep she is someone new.

The hard angles and lines of her beauty fade, soften and change, she moves from the perceived glory of unattainable goddess to pliant milk maid, cheeks pink from the sun. She settles, rests and becomes real, she's solid but relaxed, flawed and more beautiful than he has ever seen her.

The lines of her laughter, in gentle grooves at the edge of her full parted lips, do not mar her skin, she allows them residence on her hallowed flesh with each new tender smile. The laughter that used to stay hidden within the pupils of her eyes now spills free, she lets it overtake her. Loud barks and soft titters of laughter and he knows them all, gathers them to him like treasures. When he sits alone the memories of her happiness take him over and each gathered gem is brought out into the light so he can watch it sparkle and shine.

In sleep she is the woman he sees next to him in bed, her hair across his arm and chest, her fingers curled at the edge of his neck.

She is his _every_ dream when she's asleep.

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><p><strong>Kimmiesjoy: Hey guys who wants to take a nap? To sleep perchance to dream...like Kate Beckett ;) <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Written by AlwaysCastle and Kimmiesjoy**

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><p>The exhaustion flows over her in waves. She can barely stand, and leans against the counter once she gets into the break room. Her cheek still feels warm from his touch, and she resists the urge to lay her hand on her tingling flesh. Instead she reaches for a coffee mug, nearly dropping it onto the floor. She sighs and heads to the couch instead. Kate sits, just for a second, on the break room couch as she waits for her second wind to…She yawns, not bothering to cover it with her hand, and lets herself fall into the cushions.<p>

Oh its heaven.

Her hair falls around her face, slipping out of its bun completely, but she's just too tired to care. She drags her fingers through it setting it free, a luxury she normally reserves for the bedroom.

It's not long, as another yawn takes over her face, before the overtired detective allows herself to just go with it and sleep claims her completely.

The uncomfortable lumps in the couch are lies, they don't exist, she is sitting on a cloud and there is nothing but the soft press of fluff and leather beneath her. As she slips farther into sleep, her body relaxes to its truest form. Opening up her mind to all the possibilities she would never consider in the waking hours.

That is the true beauty of sleep. We are allowed that time to simply, _be_. To exist in freedom and feel whatever we want. To not be penalized or scared about the things that she runs from in life. In her dreams she can hug her mother, hold conversations with her that she never got to have. She has a better relationship with her dad, and an _actual_ relationship with Castle.

It is not undefined or unresolved but _real_, and true.

She breathes in deeply, a smile suddenly pulling at the edge of her lips because from nowhere she can smell him. She knows he is close, and a feeling washes over Kate.

Contentment.

Her chest rises and falls, not with the day's struggles trying to swallow her whole, but with a sense of something worth wile. He wipes the slate clean for her just by being near, brings her comfort like no one else.

The past two days, more so than before, she has felt the shift in their relationship, a change is coming, it's something she hides from in her waking hours, that raging flood of emotional need she feels to be with him, but the air is thicker, tangible with expectation and desire, there is more, there _needs_to be more.

Kate rolls in her sleep, just a little. Her feet move against her will, rising up as she snuggles further into the couch until both legs stretch long and slender and so unbelievably comfortable onto something solid and familiar.

"Castle?" she mumbles as she sits up and realizes he's next to her again. "Where have you been?"

But he hasn't moved, not strayed from her side, she knows it, she can see it but she needs…

"I've been here," he states with a smile and she calms as she believes him.

"All of my life, where have you been?" She laughs, "I feel like Yoda."

"Hmmm confused you are." He mocks before he laughs too, lifting their hands, she asked him to hold it and he did, whenever she asks him he does.

She should ask more…ask _for_ more.

"See I'm here," and she looks down to where their hands are linked, fingers entwined, he gives them a little shake and handcuffs slip free from the sleeves of her shirt.

Silver cuffs, which tinkle and sparkle like rings, around their left hands as they are joined together, linked and connected … connection … conjecture.

"We're tied together." She looks down at their hands and wonders if he's here because he wants to be or because he's obligated.

"Tethered," he agrees before taking her other hand, allaying all her fears in a single touch as his thumbs sweep across the backs of her hands in soft circles.

"Dance with me Kate," he pleads suddenly.

"What?" But she's distracted, the shadows outside the break room are moving, noises pick up and someone is coming

"Dance with me." He stands, cuffs gone, just him, as he pulls her to her feet.

In her dreams he acts the way she wants him to in life. He's the man who dove in for a surreptitious kiss, who lifted her from her feet and dragged her from an airplane hangar. He is the man who makes her bite her lip and tell him secrets just to watch him picture her with ice cubes, or dressed in leather. Straddling a motorcycle...

He pulls her close, his hand falling to the small of her back and sliding low.

But she's looking over his shoulder into the hall.

"It's okay," he whispers, his lips close to her ear as he speaks.

"Someone's coming."

His free hand slides along her arm as he moves it higher, slipping his fingers into her hair as he twirls her.

"No one, just you," he squeezes her waist, "just me and you and us together." He twirls her again and she laughs. "No interruptions Kate."

* * *

><p>Soft light shines in through the break room windows, enough to stir her senses and she thinks she vaguely heard the sound of clinking cups, and the espresso machine pouring coffee.<p>

The steam, the aroma of her heart, the scents she is extremely familiar with tickle at the edges of her mind and she wakes. Whoever was in the break room while she slept did not try to wake her, mindful of the fact waking a sleepy Detective Beckett has been compared to poking a bear with a stick.

She smirks at her own reputation, mollified, it comes in handy sometimes, the fear they have of her biting words and death stare. The only person who has ever woken her and hasn't had their head bitten off was Castle. She scrunches into a smile as she remembers her dreams, so vivid lately and silly, touches and dances and freaking gorillas! What is wrong with her mental state now?

She smiles and shakes away the thoughts, her eyes on the cabinet across from her and the machine it houses. If anyone could find heaven in a cup of coffee it's Katherine Beckett and right now her every waking cell has just homed in on amber nectar.

There's a light drip as the brown liquid falls to the grate below. She can hear it faintly as it teases her with its wasted flow. New noises disturb her now, a few telephones ring at as yet empty desks and the fax machine across the hall is whirring to life. The precinct wakes in the same manor that Kate does, a slow trickle into consciousness before a sudden jolt to life.

She is aware of everything now, even if she doesn't move and from what little light that does make it into the darkened break room, Kate can tell it's still very early. The only people who could possibly be here, the ones known to roam the halls at this ungodly feeling hour, are the members of her team, surely not Ryan who went home sick so maybe Esposito, possibly Gates.

Kate lets her eyes fall shut once more as a resignation washes over and any minute she will have to pull herself up, she moves her leg and suddenly becomes aware of pressure, but at the moment she does not question it.

She sighs, feeling good and finally well rested, she opens her eyes slowly again, letting her gaze roam between the two doors. They are shut and someone, some kind, generous, caring, handsome and loving…she shakes her head again, dispelling the rant, and _someone_ has pulled all the blinds down. Someone has created specifically for her, a haven amidst the madness, a safe place to let her regain her depleted energy. Her eyes scan all the windows, watching the shadows of few people walking past, amazed no one has disturbed her yet.

Something squeezes her leg at the same time her eyes fall across a pair of feet attached to two long legs that stretch out onto the floor in front of the couch. She lifts up on the elbow closest to the back of the couch, and looks over her shoulder.

Her heart sings in a lovely high pitch, before melting into a softer melody, a distant drum beat thumps the blood through her veins in a heated rush.

Castle is on the other side of the couch, curled into the crook of her bent knees, lightly leaning against her backside. His head lulled back nearly touching the wall and his face is turned towards her, as if she was the last thing he saw before he fell asleep. His arms are pinning her legs to his lap, one hand wrapped around her calf almost protectively, the other is splayed, large fingers spread to touch as much of her leg as possible, across her thigh, his thumb poised in a way that suggests maybe he was caressing her while she slept.

She becomes aware of the heat where his hands rest, the gentle meeting of flesh and soft cotton across her legs. She frowns, wishing she hadn't missed his lack of modesty, he soothed her into deeper sleep, why couldn't she have been awake, or at least aware of some of his tender touches.

She can't ask for them yet, but that doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy them.

He makes these subtle moves and caring gestures when she is otherwise unaware and not able to deny him, or frown on him. When he can get away with showing his love without the repercussions that could come from her. Like the night before, when she dozed off and woke to find his hand on her cheek. It felt so nice, and she wanted more, but her damn coping mechanisms and that loud obnoxious voice in her head kicked in before she had a chance to switch them off.

Her frown eases as her heart pounds a bit faster and, taking a steadying breath, she lets herself really look at him. The hard angles of his face hidden in flickering shadows, but she knows the angle of his jaw, the soft ridge of his nose and the light twitch of his mouth. He must be dreaming, the rapid movement of his eyes behind his eyelids, tells her so and his body is relaxed as he holds her legs to him, but his face is a contradiction.

She would have thought he would be softer in sleep, boyish and innocent. The lines of his face should be smoother, but the light that shines in his waking hours is missing as he sleeps. His face shows a darkness that clutches at her heart, almost bringing tears to her eyes. Who is this man, who protects her while she rests? His handsome features twisted in some sort of agony she's never seen from him before.

His eyes are wrinkled at the corners, not in a smile, or mirthful laughter. Not in the way she knows he normally reserves for her, no.

She almost gasps.

They are creased in worry and fear, strain showing in his every feature, his cheeks seem hollowed and stern with the clenching of his jaw. His lips are not parted as he breathes, instead fused in a tight, white, line while his eyes battle some unknown demon behind those eyelids, some fearful force that holds him from her.

Yet the rest of him does not move.

Kate doesn't understand. This overwhelming feeling to throw herself on him, to shield him, to make him take cover from the darkness, a desperate need to take it all away that consumes her. He is her partner and any battle that has to be faced should be done with her at his side, waging war together when needs must.

Hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder.

And yet…

She curls her frustrated hands into fists and looks down at his arms, at his large hands and the one that is now actually squeezing her calf.

Her eyes dart to his face to see it even more tortured then before and she can't help it, her heart is cracking with pain for him and she breaks her own rigidly enforced rules, twisting her body enough so her hand can reach for the one on her thigh. She ghosts her hand across his knuckles, her fingers falling into the warm spaces between his outstretched digits as she seeks to comfort him.

Just…hold his hand, she lets herself have that much.

Two things happen almost immediately when their skin connects, the hand around her calf loosens, and his face softens considerably. The tensions in his body eases, his mouth drops into a more natural looking Richard Castle pout, and his thumb moves across her hand.

Convinced he's soothed enough, she regretfully pulls her fingers free and moves to lift her body out of his grasp. But when she takes her hand away, it's like he's back in that dark place, her hand his lifeline to the sun and light and the minute she releases him he plunges back down the tunnel.

Her name breaks from his lips in an aching sob "Kate." Like he can't see her, find her, she's lost…like she's…oh.

She knows what he's dreaming about then and she blinks rapidly, the tears stinging her eyes, her heart stuttering making it hard for her to breath, she is the reason he looks broken when he should be at peace.

She is the reason for the encroaching darkness.

But she is also the person who can drag him free, she's already done it once. She might not be whole and healed, the perfect version of herself, but she is strong and she is more than enough to fix this.

She breathes steadily, lips pouting for him as he continues to stir, but her body still tingling from that one touch and she goes in again. She sits up, lifting her legs from his lap and moves to catch him as he slumps into her. He's heavy and she has to adapt, her body adjusting enough to catch him as he slumps into her side. He sighs, a long drawn out sound tugs at her heart again.

"Shh…" she mumbles as his head tilts further towards her, falling until he rests on her shoulder, a soft noise of gentled sleep finally leaves his lips.

She reaches between them and lays her hand completely over his, she doesn't press her fingers for entry between his, but she slides them along the shallow grooves of his knuckles taking in the details of his skin. She can just see his face from where she leans over him, the wrinkles smoothing out around his eyes, the thin line of his lips easing as he draws in another, deeper, breath of air.

It's funny, she thinks, what dreams try to tell us. That somewhere in that jumbled mess of our psyche, lays a message so comprehensible, we actually don't see its meaning right away.

When he moans her name, a far-away sound that holds little of the fear it had before, she lifts her free hand and swipes at the hair across his face, sending him further under.

Her name on his lips this time is a caress, a longing.

She moves her hand again, lifting his hair away as she slides her fingers through it.

"I know, Castle, I know." She whispers and this time she does, because she's his partner, and this time she's right there with him.

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><p><strong>It's nice to see her need him for a change isn't it? Just like we need reviews from you ;)<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**FF is back up! Whooo!**

**anyway...**

**This story is written by AlwaysCastle and Kimmiesjoy**

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><p>"KATE nooooo…" his voice echoes across the lawn in his dream, death at her side as she startles in confusion and the bullet collides with her chest in a silent thud. She looks down and at him, but he's barreling into her and they are flying backwards.<p>

Hard collisions with the mud and earth, he can smell it all, iron, blood, dirt.

Stupid.

Late. Too late.

His hand falls across her chest to stop the thumping spray of blood. But that which fades to darkness is suddenly lit in brilliant blinding sunshine and she's beneath him on the grass smiling widely and laughing, laughing so loudly and freely she rocks against his chest, her hand raising to trail across the back of his, weaving their fingers together.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her hand falls away and the shadows descend again, a crowd of faceless people surround them, blocking out the light and sun. They need to move…give her light…life.

Its fading from her face, everything that makes her amazing, vivacious and determined is draining away in the pumping of her blood, it leaves her body in floods that he can't stem the flow of.

The river of her life is flowing away to nothing and he can't build a dam fast enough to stop it. He hears the sob of her name break his lips, feels the ache of it leave his body and her eyes open, like his voice has called her back, pulled her from the jaws of death.

She smiles again, breathtaking and serene as her hand raises and her fingers trail his face.

"Shhhh…" The smile doesn't falter, her hands brushing his hair back, soothing the agony into pain and the pain into yearning.

"I thought you were…" He can't say the word, can't face the reality of it, even in his non reality, it's too much.

Her smile, all he can see is her smile, as she tilts her head and lets him talk.

"I love you and I thought…"

This time the smile wavers and is replaced with something…new, understanding bleeds through her words.

Her hand lingers over his cheek, circling his eyes before dropping to his jaw, she presses away the creases at his forehead and speaks again.

"I know Castle, I know."

But he doesn't comprehend the words the way he should, his mind a whirling dervish of confusion, because now he wants answers, does she know he thought he nearly lost her…or does she know he loves her?

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><p>Slender fingers trail across his forehead, curling through his hair and smoothing the strands in repetitive motions as he opens his eyes in confusion. Kate Beckett is touching him again.<p>

Of her own free will.

He tries not to jump, or startle out of her touch, pretending to be asleep a while longer as he listens to her murmur tender noises that offer nothing but comfort. He marvels in the feel of her fingertips, leaving trails of scorching flames in their wake. He so badly wants to turn those flames into a forest fire.

But he lays still and realizes he is curled into the angled edge of her shoulder, the soft groove of her neck resting just under his lips. He pulls them into his mouth, a tight white line to keep him from acting on impulse and pressing his lips to the beat of her thudding jugular. Her fingers caressing all the while. His mind flashes, as it often does, to the possibilities of having this sort of simple, yet intimate contact with her on a daily bases. Cuddling on the couch, or in bed. It really doesn't matter as long as she is close to him. Touching him.

He can't fight the noise of enjoyment that leaves his lips as her hand moves over his two day stubble that has appeared on his chin. He tries to turn it into a yawn but fails miserably.

"Faker," she mumbles as her hand suddenly freezes and he lets out a gentle laugh.

"How did you know?" He doesn't move.

"I'm a detective Castle," she states, letting the words sit between them for a minute before she laughs. "Plus I can see your face in the reflection from the window." He still hasn't turned to look at her yet but he follows the point of her finger to the glass wall opposite.

She looks a bit sheepish like she's been caught, maybe it was touching him, maybe from curling him into her shoulder, he's not sure…did he do that in his sleep, or did she? Still it doesn't matter to him. Just that fact that she is allowing this is enough.

"Oh." He makes a silly face and watches her scrunch back the smile as she shakes her head. The hair that now falls gloriously at her shoulders, tickles his ear.

Castle sits up and her hand slides slowly away from his face, she doesn't yank it back, she lets it fall slowly into her lap, turning as he does until they are facing each other on the couch.

Her eyes are downcast, the corner of her lips pulled back into her mouth and Castle knows her well enough to understand she's battling with words before she speaks them.

"Bec…Kate?"

"Don't dream about me dying anymore Castle," she pleads her eyes still burning a hole through the floor where her gaze remains stuck. He can see the moisture brimming in those beautiful eyes of hers. And his heart aches for her.

He starts to deny it "I wasn't…" He lets out a fake laugh that stops when her eyes rise from the floor, fierce and pained and he can't lie to her, about this, he just can't.

Kate waits, daring him to contradict, but he doesn't. He sighs and the look he hides so well, the one that only takes root and surfaces during sleep, suddenly appears. She put it there, after all her effort to banish it she's now the one bringing it forth.

"I don't know how to do that." He mumbles. Now he is no longer looking at her. As if brought directly back to the horrible day he watched her die and the horrendous summer that followed.

He closes his eyes unable to look into hers.

Her hand moves, as it did when he cried for her in sleep and cups his cheek, soothing away what she started. She needs to make it better for him, like he does for her every day.

"Dream about this..." she closes her eyes briefly, resisting a soft reassuring hum, and runs her thumb under his eye, not quite sure if she should. If she can trust herself to talk.

"Sunlight." He nods his eyes still closed.

"What?" She continues to sooth his skin under her finger. It's starting to feel like a habit, like she's been doing this all their lives, like she could go on doing it forever. She's unsure how to feel, scared or content, maybe more of the latter, because she doesn't stop.

"I dreamt about you in the sunlight that was…" He begins to say, his voice tender and yet haunted.

She senses his disturbance and eases it with her own silliness, "I think I dreamt about Yoda." She laughs, the air puffing from those lips to his eyelids.

He laughs eyes crinkling properly as he allows them to open again. They are forever brilliant blue and sparkling with mirth, happiness, love... something he can't hide from her anymore, and dammit he's just given up trying, it's out there for all to see.

"You really are the perfect woman." The words slipping free his inner filter disabled by the warmth of her touch.

Her laughter stops and her eyes meet his, very aware of her hand on his face. He moves forward, resting his own hands on her knees as he leans in. Her heart quickens, his fingers squeeze lightly, a grounding pressure that sends an electrical current up her legs into the pit of her stomach. He moves slowly, giving her time to retreat, but he moves, he's coming for her, making his move finally.

This is it.

Fight for flight?

Her pupils flick quickly from darkened blue before her, to his mouth and back again, it all happens with such rapidity that he almost misses it, almost.

Her heart begins to pound in anticipation, she remembers the taste of him under her lips, the burn of his skin pressed to hers with urgency and Kate is suddenly desperate to feel him, all of him in an ancient, cosmic rhythm.

She can feel it with such clarity, visualize it and taste it. The tangibility of it is astounding, it's like a neon sign over his head, a Lanie-esq smack to the face made entirely of clarity.

This is where she is meant to be.

She can't resist the pull of her heart anymore, the one that has been so lost, yet found in the sea of his eyes, and his presence alone. It's he who has helped her heart beat normally again.

Kate knows his eyes are on her as she drags her tongue across her lips, it isn't meant to tease him, it's preparation, and she wants to kiss him, needs to. She stays, if it's possible she even tilts forward herself, the hot exhale of air mixing between them as they breathe each other in, the warmth from their bodies heating up the room around them.

She's so close, and she closes her eyes her lips parted slightly as another heaving breath leaves her body and her lips hover over his.

And then the break room door bangs open.

"Hey, did you guys see-" Ryan stops halfway into the room, his eyebrow corking upwards and his mouth lying open.

Kate purses her lips, and Castle nearly drops his head to her shoulder.

Ryan looks behind him unsure and then back at the two, pointing between them. "Am I…err…interrupting?"

"Yes." Kate says at the same time she feels a puff of exasperated air on her collar bone.

Castle lifts his head and glares at Ryan. "What does it look like?"

"Yo! Where is the-" Esposito walks in, holding a marker and pointing off into the bull pen. He stops short, taking stock. Ryan in awe, Castle practically curled around Beckett, and Kate's hand on Castle's face.

"Are we-"

"I had a bad dream!" Castle grits out all frustrated and backs away from Kate a little.

She bites her lip, her hand has slipped to his neck and she has to keep herself focused on disguising her tenderness in front of the boys. Yet she doesn't want to lose the connection. She can feel Castle's pulse beating against her palm.

"And Beckett was…?" Ryan looks confused.

"Chasing away all the scary monsters." Kate says, pinching Castle's cheek, and then getting up to turn towards the boys. She's now blocking them from the view of her brushing her thumb tenderly along the hollow of his cheek.

His eyes dart to hers and he gives a slight nod, his head bumping into her hand, he understands…later.

Ryan and Esposito look at each other, arms crossing and then staring back at the other two with evident skepticism. There is a moment of defiance from the boys, they attempt to stare her down, break through her steely Beckett bravado and get the truth.

It doesn't work, it was a long shot anyhow and the boys shrug, Esposito taps the marker on his chin, one last glance between the pair before turning to leave.

"Hold it!" Kate says, her hands falling to her hips with practiced ease.

"Hmm?" Ryan asks, not so subtly hiding something behind his back.

Esposito glares at his partner.

"Did we see what?" She asks, all signs of tender Kate gone, replaced by Detective Beckett, who still has not had her morning coffee.

The two look at each other as Castle sighs and gets off the couch, walking behind Ryan to get some coffee for him and Kate. "Seeeee, the new evidence we found." But everyone knows that Ryan is an awful liar.

"Uh huh, what's behind your back?"

"This?" He asks, looking worried as he pulls it out. "Just a photo for the case." He says.

"No it isn't!" Castle accuses, appearing from nowhere behind Ryan and snatching the photo out of his hand unexpectedly.

Kate walks over, her shoulder leaning into Castle's with that newly familiar habit again as she looks at the photo. "Who took this?" She asks, taking it from Castle and holding it up. She catches a flash of her own face, and Castle's body leaning on hers in the photo.

"Uh."

"And who drew on us?" She's both appalled and a bit amused. Esposito flings something out of his hand at the flick of his wrist. She hears the sound of a marker banging into a desk somewhere out in the bullpen.

"What are you guys _twelve?_" She asks.

Castle makes some sort of snorting sound next to her. If he breaks and laughs so will she.

"Hey we weren't the ones snuggled on the couch with our thumbs in our mouths!" Esposito fires back.

"My thumb was not in my mouth!" Kate argues. "And what is with this?" She points a viscous finger at the picture.

"Oh I don't know." Castle plucks the photo from her angry hand. "I think you look good with a mustache Beckett, regal even." He tilts his head at it, grinning now.

Kate gives him a look, narrowed eyebrows and dangerous eyes, he lifts his head and grins at her. Her look softens immediately. It is sort of amusing. "And you look very _debonair_ with your green handle bars Castle, but that is hardly the point."

Castle makes a gesture, as if twirling the ends of his fake mustaches with his fingers, like a cheesy silent movie villain, adding in an eye waggle to boot.

God, he is so damn adorable. She just wants to reach over, grab hold of the lapels of his jacket and…

Kate gets lost for a moment before shaking herself out of it and glaring at the boys again. "What if Gates saw this!"

Again, her fellow Detectives look at each other. Esposito goes to open his mouth, but before he has a chance to respond, before she can **kill** him _dead_ with that blaze of fury burning out of her eyes... Gates office door opens and a screech echoes around the room.

"BECKETT! CASTLE! MY OFFICE. NOW!"

"Great!" Kate punches Esposito in the arm on her way out.

"Thanks guys." Castle looks utterly crestfallen, pushing the picture into Ryan's chest and following Kate into Gate's office.

"Shut the door, Mr. Castle." The cold woman asks of him. He does, and then stands next to Kate, who is in defense mode, body stiff arms crossed. He adopts a similar pose but he's really coming off timid, it doesn't help that he takes a small step back feeling infinitely safer with Beckett as his shield against the irate Captain.

"Sir?" Kate asks.

"I don't know what falling asleep on the job says about you, Detective." Gates says leaning back in her chair, stone faced. "But it says a lot about me, and my reputation in this department."

"Sir I-"

"Your mind is clearly not on the job when you're cuddled up on the break room couch after hours."

Castle represses a giggle at the sound of the word 'cuddle." coming out of Gates' mouth, whether bitten out or not. He feels Kate's elbow poke back, a warning, 'shut the hell up before we end up in more trouble.'

"You and your team are no use to me tired, and _you_ are no used to me if you can't keep your team under control. I do not need two grown men out there playing silly games." She continues.

And even though they haven't warmed up to her yet, don't know her well enough to read the complexities and nuances of her words, they sense a _but_ coming.

"If you can send detective Ryan home when he's sick, you can certainly do the same for yourself if you need a break. Maybe you need a _rest_." She scolds and Kate flinches at the idea that she's too tired to do her job, her shoulders stiffen and her head lifts, Gates is treating her like a child, like she's incompetent.

Castle shifts from one foot to the other.

It's one thing to be yelled at by Kate, but another to be scolded by the woman who doesn't even want him here. He watches Kate out of the corner of his eye, sees her chewing on the inside of her lip. To Gates she probably appears defiant, but to him she's got a mixture of emotions playing on her face.

"I'm not your mother." The Captain states firmly, seemingly unaware as Kate blanches. "I shouldn't have to tell you when to go to bed."

"Yes sir." Kate says between her now clenched teeth, her body turns ever so slightly towards Castle and the door. She's in flight mode.

"Go _home_. Take the next two days off. Recharge." Gates points at the door. "And take him with you."

Kate nods walking past Castle who just stands for a moment.

"Go." Gates practically yells and he flees out the door.

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><p><strong>GO review! Please? haha<strong>

**But go back and review chapter 6 first since FF wouldn't let you  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Written by AlwaysCastle and Kimmiesjoy**

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><p>Kate ignores the eyes on her back when she leaves the Captains office. Her bag and coat are on before Castle can even offer help. She's on a mission, her narrowed gaze fixed on the two sheepish looking Detectives across the room, loitering by their desks as if they weren't trying to listen in on the aftermath of their little prank.<p>

Kate moves swiftly, with purpose. Like a lioness on the prowl and she has just spotted her next victim, easy target, weakened prey. She stalks, her head held high, towards them, watching as Ryan falters, his eyes darting between her and where, she assumes, Castle stands behind her. Esposito attempts more defiance, raising his chin obstinately, at least until she draws level.

A shadow descends across both the men, her boys, as they wait, fearing the worst because yeah, it's fun to tease and poke at the potential and glaringly obvious blossoming romance before them, _but _at the end of it all, they are a team, her back up. Not the ones who should be getting her berated by the boss. It was really a low blow on their part, not the actual prank which is still a sign of their team spirit and unity, but the fallout, that's on them, and it's only fair that they get a little something back.

She stops dead with a click, heeled feet not quite stomping but loud enough that they see Castle's head snap up and they realize he is enjoying it, that forceful little _tap_ as she stops in front of them. He likes it…but it's probably not best to focus on that when she, Beckett, is standing in front of them with that look on her face. Well not so much her face actually. It's all centered in one place...

Her eyes!

The deep, scary pools of her eyes, the brilliant beams of glaring green. The look and stance she uses in interrogations, in take-downs, on occasion with Gates. She's oozing payback, and all her Detective assets are focused on them with narrow minded determination in a way that simply says 'I will end you.'

They don't doubt it.

The darkness of anger and aggression burns everything, with an all-consuming fury as Kate, now level with the two scared men, extends her hand and snatches the photo, the stupidly childish moment in time that she and Castle shared on the break room couch and Esposito _stole_with a flash of his phone. The photo that they then proceeded to deface by drawing all over, lime green mustaches on both of their faces, before posting it around the precinct, the photo that she wants…to keep.

The words exit her mouth, like verbal bullets, hard, fast, rapid fire annihilation "Do you realize what you've done? Do you?"

She steps closer, thrusting her finger hard into Esposito's chest.

The men are frozen in fear. But then...

The tension breaks.

With the triumphant bark of her laughter, just one loud 'HA' her hand drops over her mouth as all their heads snap to the Captains office. But Gates is on the phone and totally unaware that the formerly put-in-her-place Detective is now laughing at the looks on the faces of the two men opposite her.

Both Ryan and Esposito are distracted from Beckett though. They can see Castle smirking behind her, he must have known, however it is that he always knows what she's thinking, what she's planning, he must have because now he's laughing too.

"What's so funny?" Ryan asks cocking his head to one side in confusion. His voice hitches in the end.

"Two days," Kate replies, her smile wide, "two _whole_days off, thanks to your little stunt." She swirls a finger at them.

Both men baulk in confusion and start talking at the same time.

"No way…"

"I was sick yesterday…"

"…for taking a picture…"

"…and I shouldn't really be in and you get_ two_days off."

"It's not fair."

"It's totally not fair."

Kate reaches across her desk, and grabs the case files, thumping them into Esposito's chest before she turns on the spot and strides towards Castle.

He's taken aback, laughing at the boys, he isn't ready for the determined looking Detective marching towards him. She draws close before he's fully prepared and takes him by surprise. Her smile is still wide but her fingers harsh and pokey. She uses the full force of her finger tips, driving him backwards so he stumbles a few steps.

"What are you doing?" He asks his eyes blazing.

"Taking you with me," she grins at him, lips raised to one side. "Captains orders remember?"

They reach the elevator door and he's not entirely sure _how_but he has everything, coat, keys phone and he has her, sort of, pressing him into the wall. She revels in the feel of him under hand again...that is until she suddenly remembers where she is and who she is and what exactly she is doing because her hand falls and the smile…drops…just a bit.

"Hey Beckett?" She turns back towards Esposito, hitting the call button as she does. "Where you going?"

Kate feels confused, mildly apprehensive not entirely sure why, but the elevator door opens and there is a 'ping' to announce its arrival and she's distracted enough to step across the threshold, Castle at her side, and call out.

"Home Esposito, to bed."

Esposito smirks.

Gotcha.

His arm extending as he points "And you're taking Castle with you?"

The elevator door closes in her face, her mouth dropping wide, leaving her in the enclosed, cramped, very, very narrow space with her partner, her…could be everything more, and that huge accidental declaration that seems to settle between them.

There is no space for her hammering heart and his never mentioned words of love. No space for Yoda or mops or damn sneaky gorillas that steal out of your subconscious and tell the world you really want to get…

And there is certainly no space for the tension. It rises from the two of them, mingling in the small space between them, thick and cloying like fog as it fills the rest of the area. It circles around them, like they've been circling around each other, for years. Only this time… she feels like she's in a shark tank, and her own desires are going to eat her alive.

Kate suddenly becomes very aware of her bottom lip. She's not sure why, but the plump skin she would normally worry with her teeth feels far too tender, far too…_alone_as it rests slightly parted from the one above. It feels hot, too hot, this little piece of pouty flesh. She breathes over it, wets it slowly with her tongue and breathes through the gap between them. But it's still too warm, it burns for…

But it's not just her lip that's hot, her hands are too, empty, devoid of contact with…the left fists tight at her side whilst the right remains flat against the cold metal of the door that holds her prisoner.

It's not just her either. It's him, and this space, enclosed and tight, she watches as he squirms, his neck wrapped too tightly within his collar, constricting, he can feel it too and if there were windows, they would certainly be fogged up by now. By all the un-released sexual tension, the pent up frustration, shared looks, and the things unsaid.

It shouldn't be this insanely awkward because he knows she didn't mean literally _with_ her. He must know that, literally home to bed _with_ her is not how she will declare it. Especially not in the middle of the precinct, and especially because it won't need to be declared it will simply happen. Naturally, beautifully no fan-fared trumpets and 'woohoo look at us we're finally gonna do it'. It will be simple and understated a mutual and spontaneous agreement between the two of them, slightly awkward, because it's them, but tender and full of meaning and now her chest is heaving just a bit as she wonders.

It will be all those things, and more and she knows because some of it has already happened, especially these last few days. It's just that last...line, that has to be crossed, that last leap to be taken, the threshold beyond which lies their desire, for each others heart and soul...and body. She can't deny body. She shivers at the thought of all three things connecting at the same time. A trifecta of human emotion, desire and love culminating in…him.

Then she feels something, soft skim against the hand on the door, the brush of his finger to her wrist, he doesn't try to capture her hand and pull her to him, it's just a tap, a slide of his thumb over the edge of the bone to get her attention.

It works perfectly.

Her eyes move, in the time it takes her lids to close and reopen, finding his gaze centered solely on her, he isn't in the elevator he's wherever sun and peace and happiness are given life, the soft smile at his lips tells her so.

It's harder than it should be for her to meet that steady stare, his unflinchingly calm and open face because she expects…not mockery, teasing maybe, lightness to the situation that isn't necessary.

But it's not what she finds.

Even after two days of comfort and being wrapped around him in sleep, knowing touches and what was going to be a very significant kiss in the break room, Kate can't quite get over the amazement she feels when she realizes that Castle isn't looking at her with the lust of a man who wants to pin her to the wall and ravish her.

It's a given that that is what burns underneath. She doesn't question the fact that he finds her attractive, hot even, and he is…he is _everything_ that she is to him, if not more and yeah, the ravishing thing comes to mind again, but there is just so much besides that. There is the heat and the sex, which somehow, in the cramped space of the elevator, doesn't _mean_ anywhere near as much as the _way_he is looking at her, the way she knows she is staring back at him.

There is adoration in his eyes. Unadulterated love that beats, palpable, between them. There is something akin to concern, maybe trepidation as every eager waiting cell cries out for more but backs away with patience. The steady beats of his lashes keep her in rhythm, keep her steady and grounded in his gaze, her own personal metronome, but none of that, not even his fingers to her wrist, can stop the sway.

The...magnetic pull sounds so cheesy, but that's what it is. It's planets aligning and cliché upon cliché of everything that shouldn't drag you off your own feet, tilt you against your own center of gravity and into the body of someone else as if you have no control over your own brain. That is what it is. It shouldn't be because she is steely and a force of nature on her own. But nature is acting against her. Her heart is a turncoat against waiting for the perfect time and her brain. Oh her brain stopped functioning somewhere around the time he slid his thumb over the hard bone in her wrist and pressed gently against her pulse.

And just when she wants to give in to the muffled, getting louder, rip-roaring tidal wave that is crashing against the walls of the tiny elevator and ricocheting into her. Just when every fiber and spark of being is screaming at her to just go with it, stumble into his chest and hold him, let him hold her, be loved. Just when that seems completely doable.

Easy.

Simple.

_Just_ as she opens her mouth again to speak, her foot lifting to move, she feels her hand slide…doors open, and the deafening 'PING' of missed opportunity rings over her…again.

* * *

><p>Kate stands at her apartment door fumbling with her keys. Her hands are shaking, every inch of her skin is flushed, and she feels as though she's coming down with a fever. On top of all that, her breathing is shallow and she can't get the image of what she almost let conspire in the elevator, out of her head. Her mind flicks from the key, refusing to slip into the lock, as she remembers leaving, Castle behind her, how she could have easily turned around and...<p>

She wants to go there...why didn't she go there?

The keys slip from her trembling hand, and hit the ground at her feet with an accusing jingle. She lets her forehead hit the door in front of her, and her eyes slip closed. She breathes in, fisting one hand at her side, while the other spreads out next to her head on the door. She shouldn't be questioning herself. What is there to question anyway...?

Will he stick around?

That's a given. He's stuck around this long, why would he leave now? He's shown her nothing but loyalty and devotion, not to mention patience for nearly four years. If he was going to leave. He would have already. Instead he keeps coming back and she lets him. She wants him around... she wants him.

Will they be good together?

Yes. Of course. If these last few years, are any indication. Their chemistry, easy banter, willingness to stand beside each other, do _anything_ for each other, die for each other... then yes. Then there are the last few days. How easy it has been for her to just reach out and...touch him and it doesn't feel weird, it feels natural, it feels right.

He is so good for her. She can see that. Just his presence alone, defuses the dull throb of her existence. He soothes the ache in her chest to replace it with her longing for him, her quest for more, to be…more. But it's a good ache. It lets her know she's still capable of love. A love she never knew was out there, was blind to until he showed her the way. It's there in his eyes, his actions, and now his touch.

It isn't stilted or forced, it's everything.

But is she good for him? That is what it comes down to, is she good enough to be loved by him in the all-consuming way she can see coming? She wants to be, Kate lifts her hand and thumps it on the door in frustration, god does she want to be.

She opens her eyes, staring down at her fallen keys. Lifting her forehead from the door, Kate bends down, crushing the keys in her hand. She's ready. And even if she wasn't... If she waits for the moment when everything is perfect, nothing will ever happen, because that time will _never_ come, nothing is ever 'perfect', and Kate doesn't want it to be, she wants real, the harsh reality that it's not all roses and sunshine, she wants the battle of not just winning his heart but keeping it, defending it, protecting it.

Perfection is a myth, and just because she's his _muse_ doesn't mean she gets to stand at the wayside and let the fates do all the work because she will end up impassive, she'll just be standing still for eternity.

Castle might realize, one day when his patience has worn thin and his grappling hooks still haven't made it over the top, his wrecking ball has made no dent, and he is still standing on the wrong side of her wall, he might realize and leave her, but what could she do? She has no right to stop him.

But she can stop herself.

She can quit pacing around the wading pool, and just...dive in. Give her heart to him completely, after all it's what he wants, it's what she wants... and the heart, well Castle put it best, wants what the heart wants. And Kate's heart, her aching, bullet sliced, broken but healing heart wants _him_, she just hasn't been listening.

Well now, as her heart beats swiftly in her chest, now that the anticipation of her decision is growing, she can hear it loud and clear. She's finally tuning into the thudding muscle and thinking 'screw you' to waiting, she's finally going to do something about it.

Kate shoves her keys into her pocket, turning away from her door.

She's diving in.

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><p><strong>Dive into a review <strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Written by AlwaysCastle and Kimmiesjoy**

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><p>Castle stands, hands in fists behind his back outside the precinct. The air is chilly and Kate is opposite him with her arms crossed in the cold, a few feet away, and for good reason…maybe.<p>

No.

That's just another excuse to keep up this heated dance, and he finds himself becoming irritated with the turn of events. Not with her, he looks up again to find her eyes closed and her head lifted…well maybe the tiniest amount with her because she's just so frustrating and...

A cold breeze sweeps the sidewalk and gathers her hair, pulling it away from her in a sweeping wave and he watches as she turns her beautiful face up into it. It's freezing, but for once he really doesn't care. He'd walk back home in shorts and a t shirt just to calm the burning of his flesh. The aftermath of the elevator, in all its charged entropy, has left him anxious and overheated.

And it seems that way for Kate as well. It raises some satisfaction in him and at least he knows it's not just him. She's always been so good at hiding it, but lately... it's as though he's slipped passed her defenses... or there is a complete lack of them, and all her emotions and feelings, and reactions are out there for him to see.

That is something in itself. It makes him feel as though the beginning is near. He's so close he can taste it, taste her, but then moments like this rear their ugly head and the awkwardness sets in. The distance she's put between them on the sidewalk is a step back, and all he wants to do is stride forward, fill the void with his body and take her in his arms.

Castle opens his mouth, squeezing his fists tighter. But Kate cuts him off.

"Taking a cab?" She asks. He thinks he can hear a hint of shyness. That's something.

"I thought I would walk." He replies. But his tone is not tender like he meant it to be. It's come out detached. He must be reading into her unspoken questions, still far too in tune with her.

Shit.

She nods, pivoting her upper half so she can look behind her, away from him, anywhere but him, as her lower half... those legs, stay rooted to the ground. He watches, sees the cogs turn within her racing mind and the fight or flight response he knows so well starts firing. But she doesn't move.

Her body won't comply but her expression is very readable.

She looks back at him, and actually shrugs, with a slight tilt of her head, her eyes scrunch at the corners in confusion at her own rampaging emotions.

She's not ready.

Still.

He can see it in her eyes, but he can also see that she's fighting that too, she's not ready yet, but she…wants to be?

That's what he reads. He could be wrong. He so badly doesn't want to be wrong. He doesn't want to feel like this has been all for nothing. Because it's surely…something.

He doesn't know what to do about it though, his mouth opens to ask but the raise of her eyes to his again freeze the words, the actions, and he stops.

If he takes a step forward, a bridging step towards her, he thinks she will panic, flight response in full force as she makes a feeble excuse, she might pretend she didn't almost fall into his chest in the elevator, and flee.

But what is his other option? Just say goodbye, go home and be fighting with himself the whole way? He can't keep doing this.

She takes the step at almost the same time he does, her hands falling to hook her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, she gives him a smile, a small one, a new one, but it falls away fast as he lifts his hand. She's still far enough away that even with his arm at full reach, his fingertips only just skim her shoulder.

"I…" she shakes her head, the incomplete unknowable sentence between them before she breathes out, a forced exhale that says more than words.

"Two days." He speaks, not entirely sure of his own meaning as he begins. He's giving her time, he is, he does and he always will, but with everything still tangible and real he needs to remind her.

"You don't want to see me for two…?"

Of course she misunderstands, and her face takes on a look of complete hurt and desolation that, screw fight or flight, forces him to step closer, his fingers firm on her shoulder as he squeezes again.

"It's been two days," he watches her face to see meaning sink in and when it doesn't, when she still looks hurt he continues "it has been _two_ days since…you fell asleep on me." And he wants that again. The pure vulnerability she allows when she's warm and sleepy, open and without that wall.

Oh...

Her eyes widen, grow larger and more inviting as she comprehends what he means, two days of forward momentum to get them to here and it's huge, it's tiny in terms of progress but…it's still huge. It's monumental, as his hand still rests on her shoulder, the shoulder she held him against while he dreamed of her.

She nods.

"Two days," she repeats and he smiles, glad she understands but she shakes her head. "Two days before we have to come back." She nods towards the building, this sad look on her face as though it won't be long enough for...whatever this is.

And this time his eyes grow larger and his beaming smile makes her laugh, she steps back but it's okay, it's frustrating and painful and he still wants to lift her off her feet and kiss her breathless in the middle of the street but it's okay, because she just gave him hope, she gave him a promise.

Two days, past and gone by, since she fell asleep on him, and two days, ahead and unknown.

* * *

><p>Castle's brow furrows, hands clasped behind his back as he paces his study. She just gave him hope and he was happy with that, more than happy with it. His heart rose in his chest, his cup nearly runneth over, it's blue birds over his head and rainbows and smiles and unicorns.<p>

But now what?

Now that he's had time to walk home in the freezing cold, his skin feeling raw and tight as he still shivers, now he's done that Castle feels even more frustrated as reality sets in. Frustrated at her, but mostly himself, for _letting_ her get to him the way she does, he gives her that power over him, he lets her make him wait.

Why?

Why must he wait? He's been waiting and pining for nearly four years. He's sat idly by and taken her cues, following leads that are fewer and farther between. Waiting for the moment where she gives him a shred of what she gave him today.

But what makes this slice any different from the others?

She has all the power here. She holds his heart in her hand and she can easily take it all away. It's not like she hasn't done it before, and he shouldn't be bitter because she was healing and needed time but he doesn't have the patience of a saint, he's human, he's a man, and he can't help but wonder what makes this any different?

He stops.

Castle had been dragging his hand roughly through his hair, but he suddenly stills and looks out his study at the front door.

The difference is...He is going for it.

He's taking the power from her. He nods at himself, rubbing his hand on his chin now and then striding out with purpose to his front door. He's still wearing his coat, didn't bother to take it off when he stormed through his front door so he just grabs his keys. As he swings his door wide, face determined he nearly collides with all his heart desires.

Kate Beckett stands outside his door, a gasp halfway out her mouth, and two coffees in hand.

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><p><strong>We'll take our coffees with reviews on the side.<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Written by AlwaysCastle and Kimmiesjoy**

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><p>Beckett and Castle or Kate and Rick or whoever the two of them actually are in that moment... stare at each other in silence. Her eyes rotate in mild confusion and his mouth flaps in a way that should be comical but isn't because, yeah, they're both here, together, alone, and when the realization finally hits them, they speak at the same time.<p>

"You're here?"

"You're going out?" Kate asks confused, suddenly feeling ridiculous standing on his doorstep with coffee for him and he's going out. He actually looks like he barely got in and she just turned up like an idiot. She shakes her head "You have plans," she turns "I'll just…" Her hands fall to her sides, gripping both coffees.

"I was coming to see you." Castle states and his smile appears as he interrupts her. Kate lifts her head to look at him, she's far too unsure for his liking, he waits for a second but she doesn't speak.

"You brought me coffee?" He looks at the cup, it's from the same place he buys Kate's every morning and he knows for a fact she must have walked twenty minutes out of her way to get it. He looks at it and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face.

"It's a bribe actually," she says scrunching her nose, ignoring the somewhat smug look that has taken up residence on his face as she steps around him, thrusting the cup into his chest and making him grab it. She's more Beckett than Kate as she walks past him quickly. "I need a favor." She then says offhandedly

"Really?" He shuts the front door following her, watching as she sets her cup down on his dining table and sheds her coat. Her hands fall on the cup again, clutching at it like she needs something normal, something grounding before she speaks.

"Yes I need…"

"A nap buddy?" He asks with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes, putting her coffee down again, her hands falling to her hips. "Not this time, I actually was hoping I could…borrow a book." She bites her lip, hearing how feeble it sounds as she says it.

"A book?"

"Yeah." Oh it sounds so fake and she can see he's not buying it, but she can't look away from the adorable and really annoying way his eyes have started dancing.

"You want a book?" He asks again, sipping his coffee and looking over the rim with a raised eyebrow.

"I haven't got anything to…_read_ and I thought you being…"

"A _writer_," he prompts, his cup falls from his lips to reveal that smile that suggests the paper thin excuse is wearing away faster and faster as he stares at her.

"Well yeah, you would be able to lend me something to…"

"Read." He finishes for her.

She nods.

He nods with her, pursing his lips. "Mmm hmmm I get how I would be your first option, not one of the…" He does some mental math and she smiles as his lips smoosh to one side in concentration "Twenty-seven book shops between your place and mine."

Busted, she is just so thoroughly busted.

"Yours are free." She states her hands not falling, she seems to be gaining confidence because she taps the toe of her shoe like he should be moving, complying faster. She made up the lie and she's going with it.

He considers deducing the number of libraries she could have gone to, but sticks with their usual. "Touché." And then puts the cup back to his lips as he looks to his study and back at her. His eyes linger on hers for a long time, before he finally turns and narrowly avoids walking into the wall.

Kate watches him go, thoroughly checking out his backside as he disappears around the open door. She smirks at herself, and then at him and his near miss before she pushes away from the counter, with her coffee. She can hear him at his bookshelf as she walks by and decides to just…stay away for the time being, keep up the banter. Ease into it all.

"Anything in particular you are looking for?" His voice calls out.

She purses her lips, pretty certain she's found what she has been looking for, but that is a bit too much of a dramatic statement to just blurt out and she finds herself at his grand piano by the window. "Not sure." She says, letting her free hand smooth over the shiny black surface. This is safer, slower, more…

"Well you have all my works… so those are out." He mumbles loud enough for her to hear, all smug. She rolls her eyes, sipping her coffee.

Kate walks around the whole piano. Feeling a sense of nostalgia, and then lifts the lid from the keys, setting her coffee down on a coaster Martha must have there for her wine glasses. Castle still hasn't said anything... and she doesn't think he'll be out anytime soon, so she sits on the bench, twirling her body until she's facing the white and black keys.

"Have you read, _The girl with the dragon Tattoo_?" He asks loudly just as she caresses the keys softly.

Light enough not to press them down, there is no tonal echo just shiny _almost_ music beneath her fingers. "I haven't." She replies, watching for him nervously.

The sound of a book thudding onto his desk startles her just enough that she presses down on one of the keys and the note plinks around the room. "You might like that one." He then says, rummaging further about his collection.

She may have made up this little excuse, but it doesn't mean he won't look anyway, Kate smiles because he hasn't emerged to question the noise and he hasn't called her on the whole book thing, but that echoing note has made her fingers feel funny, tingly, and she settles more comfortably on the bench. The stretch of black and white keys before her.

* * *

><p>He skims over a few she might laugh at him for, and pulls more from the series he placed on his desk, throwing one so it lands with a loud-ish bang. He hears a sharp ping almost immediately after, straightening up with a Tess Gerritsen book in his hand and listens. Maybe it was one of their phones.<p>

He shrugs.

Castle doesn't want to answer it even if it was his phone... he would rather have this time with Kate uninterrupted, like that morning in the break room (until the boys came in), and then the elevator (when the door slid back and she nearly fell out).

He sighs, bending back down to search some more.

Passing his finger over another book, he hears it again. Only this time, it's accompanied by a string of notes, playing perfectly together. His brow creases, a pang entering and exiting his chest when he realizes that it's not the radio, or anyone's phone.

It's the piano.

His heart races, and his feet carry him out of his study, and out into the loft. He follows the music and till he sees something too unexpected for words.

Kate sits at the instrument, her eyes half closed as her long fingers press each key masterfully, Castle watches in awed fascination as her body moves back and forth softly. Her eyes are cast downwards, a small smile on her lips even though her brow is creased in that way Castle thinks is incredibly adorable.

He doesn't move, just watches, and listens to the music flowing from her body. Not the piano, no, but from her inner heart strings. There is a relaxed ease and fluidity to her movements that suggests habit and ritual, like it might be something she loves but doesn't get a lot of opportunity to indulge.

God, he is more than happy to indulge anything that makes her look like that.

"Name that tune." Kate says without stopping. Her lips quirk, and her eyes flash to him briefly, he was perfectly silent and still as he watched her but she knew he was there.

Castle smiles and now that she has invited him into her peaceful moment, her joyous interlude. He happily steps up to the piano, walking the distance until he is at her side and turning her warm coffee cup on the coaster. He wants to touch something, her mainly, but the cup will suffice for the moment because she is still playing and there is no way he is stopping her.

He ponders the music, closing his eyes.

When he comes up with nothing, slightly crestfallen he watches as she shakes her head and offers him encouragement by pressing a bit harder at one part of the song, emphasizing the phrase, the change in tone and emotion.

His eyes light up. "Casper's Lullaby." He says softly, watching her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm when he guesses correctly. He moves until he is standing just behind her, fascinated by the way her fingers move, gracefully with so little effort, over the keys "You play beautifully."

Having tipped forward in time to the music, he watches as her hair falls slowly away from her neck to settle in a curtain either side of her face. A vast expanse of white skin is now lying exposed across the tops of her shoulders and he stands, feet leaden, weighted down, watching it ripple with gentle muscle as she continues to hit the notes of the sad sounding song.

He knows the story behind the notes well, the unrequited longing of a girl who falls for a love that isn't tangible, but real none the less. There is something mesmerizing behind each key strike, something about the way the music echoes softly and almost timidly that leaves him aching and unable to resist, as the she hits note after note. He lifts his hand and runs a finger, light but heated, across the nape of her neck.

She jumps and misses the next note, spinning to look at him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance ."You made me mess up." She huffs watching as he moves, shoving her sideways a little to sit on the seat with her. He faces away, with his back to keys. It's intimate and...

"Label," he murmurs daring her, with her 'I came over to borrow a book' lie, to contradict his words.

She doesn't, but he can see Kate, as close as she is, half smile and all, trying not to roll her eyes. She can hardly outright say anything and he loves how much it annoys her. He loves, well…everything.

"What else can you play?" He asks ignoring her indignation, enjoying it, rolling it around him and settling in to enjoy her, and the odd atmosphere they have going.

"Only this." She says as she strikes the keys.

He starts to laugh as the melody floats around, lithe and bouncy and not at all what he was expecting given the other piece she played. She gets to the chorus and elbows him clearly in need of audience participation. His eyes dart to her face as he finds her watching him, her gaze having drifted sideways, her tongue behind her teeth as she smiles.

"Doodah," he groans laughing as she plays _Camp Town races._ He turns on the stool. Spinning his legs to slip them under the piano next her hers, pressing close to her deliberately as she carries on "Oh the doodar day."

He's amazed that her fingers have kept steady with the time and beat, as she adjusts himself on the bench.

He watches her swallow, feels the small twitch in her leg as his thigh comes to rest against her and he hums along with the music she's provided. There is a hot strip of skin burning through the cotton of her pants, or his, or both, he can feel the static. Every time she moves to hit the keys, each little muscle flex adds to the crackle between them.

He's taking the power back he reminds himself. Dropping his left hand across his right thigh, he hovers the tips of his fingers over her leg deliberately, before he moves them to just lightly skim at her hip and then withdraws.

That does it.

That makes her falter, and she misses a note just as he had planned.

Castle shifts closer, the static frizz between their touching legs shift into something more heated, more undefined. He lifts his right arm to drop it around her shoulder, feels her start, a small jump as the current turn's live wire, and he smiles as he sees her eyes close. Her teeth settle over her lip, a very pink and inviting lip that seems to be calling his name. In one long drag of agonizingly slow movement he runs his fingers down her arm, trailing flames as he goes. Stopping at her wrist he fights to pull his eyes from that tiny piece of tantalizing flesh at the edge of her mouth.

He has never really taken time to admire her fingers before. He plans to rectify this as each of his own burn to the touch. Castle brushes the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand in a slow and calculating circle before he covers her hand completely with his. He makes them one. His digits and hers are touching, completely twinned and he moves her fingers as if they are his own, striking at the keys and hitting the notes she had missed.

If it wasn't for the sound of the key's pressing down with his soft coaxing, surely he would have heard her gasp. Or maybe he did, with his arm around her, his chin nearly brushing the side of her head. She can feel him breathing, pressed into her, the hot exhale ticking her hair. It's steady, somehow, and yet his body quivers slightly against her.

Her whole body is humming with awareness, tingling, and burning where his skin rests on hers. It's like nothing she's ever felt before. She sometimes thinks she can taste the edge of this when he is near, hovering, but when they _touch_, it's like a magnificent explosion of senses.

Whilst being so absorbed in the tinkling of keys and the insanity of softness that is her skin, Castle has almost forgotten he has his arm around her shoulder, her body pressed into his side. And yet she hasn't moved away from him. If anything, he can feel her press herself further into his embrace as they play. Some tune, he's not really listening to. He's forgotten everything else.

Almost

Because Kate chooses this moment, the moment when their joint fingers hit the A, to open her eyes and turn to him. They are less than a breath apart as she looks at him, her eyes flicking down to slide over his lips before moving back up to his eyes.

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><p><strong>and here we go ;)<strong>


	11. The End

**Some spoilers for the book _Heat Rises_**

**This Story is written by AlwaysCastle and Kimmiesjoy.**

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><p>Kate Beckett was never one to believe in fate. Never thought that just because a certain thing happened or didn't happen, didn't mean that it was meant to be, or not meant to be.<p>

But she's changed.

Castle made her realize that there is magic in the world that maybe things happen, and don't happen for a reason. It makes her think that this morning when Ryan and Esposito interrupted them, that perhaps... that was not the _right _time.

Just like now.

With his breath on her lips, his mouth just touching hers, skimming close enough to taste, not moving but still touching, the door to his loft opens, and in walks Alexis.

Apparently this was not their defining moment either.

Kate purses her lips, as Castle deflates with a very audible groan in protest, and then looks down at the keys. His hands slip from hers, and suddenly she's cold. His arm now removed from her shoulder, his absence makes her ache so painfully that she turns away completely when he gets himself off the bench.

Kate faces the piano, almost frozen as she hears him talk with his daughter. The simplicity of their conversation is too much for her mounting emotions, she has to move. She can see from her vantage point, that the door to his study is still open from when he searched for a book, and she needs the salvation, the sanctuary of that space.

She hears Alexis question if she has interrupted something and the denial from him burns like ice water down her back, like inhaling fire. She understands why he does it, but the pain is there none the less. Kate finally reaches, after less than twenty steps, a little haven away from the madness. She swipes a hand through her hair, mussing it over her shoulder, before she drops down onto the edge of the desk.

Each book he picked is stacked behind her like a weighted promise and as she sits on the edge with her hip, she pushes one of the piles and sends it toppling over. She doesn't grab for the stack as it crashes, in fact she enjoys the noise, the crash and cacophony of each one. For some reason they remind her of bricks and she feels oddly comforted.

Picking one randomly from the decimated pile, she rounds the desk and flops onto the couch as her fingers skim the pages. He, Castle, is with his daughter and she wouldn't drag him away for the world, so she settles onto the couch, opens the cover and begins to read.

A few lines in she realizes, it's one of his.

If that is not a sign she doesn't know what is.

She smiles, her chest rising on a whimpered sigh and she flips to a random page. Having read it more than once, it really doesn't matter where she starts. He heart pangs at the first word she sees more than halfway down the page... and just like her eyes do for the real man, Castle, is the first thing she seeks. It's like a beacon of hope, for her and for Nikki.

Kate reads the pages quickly in her mind, as Nikki Heat battles for her life. She finds her heart rate quickening at the intensity of it all even though she already knows the outcome. But the moment brings her back to all the high speed chases, and close calls. Both on her own, and with Castle at her side. She's come to realize, how much she's needed him there for her. How he's been her steady ground, something for her to lean on even if she asks for it or not. He gives it so willingly and without second thought.

She wants to be that for him.

Kate leans back against the cushions of the couch, bringing her knees up and resting the book atop them. She stares at the page not reading for a moment, her eyes coming in and out of focus along with her other senses. Castle and Alexis are still talking in the kitchen. But she doesn't catch a thing they are saying. Instead, she is staring at a particular word on the page in front of her.

Salvation.

Does he know? She knows on some level that these books are some sort of love letter to her. So is this his way in telling her that he understands?

Is this his always?

Kate brings her fingers up to her mouth, eyes dancing and yet swimming in a bit of moisture that gathers there. She places her hand on the page, finger under her favorite line in the entire book. She takes in a ragged breath, the need to clear her throat making her chest ache, and reads it aloud:

"Heat leaned back against the wall, looking upward at the…" Kate soothes his name from her lips like a wish "Castle."

"Mmm?" He wonders through the doorway as she murmurs his name, her fingers track the page but her eyes are closed, the words flowing from memory and she can't have heard him. It's only then as he really takes in her fingers as they caress the page that he realizes she's reading, or remembering, and wasn't talking to him at all. In fact as she carries on he's fairly certain she doesn't even know he is here.

The long slender fingers of one hand trace the words, his words, as she speaks them with her eyes still firmly closed, but it's the soft curl of her lips and the way her other hand is tangled in her hair that he focuses on. Her fingers caress the soft strands almost like she is lulling herself into sensation. Putting herself deeper under the spell of the words as they wrap around her, spilling from her lips like secrets.

Each tender, but leading, tug of her fingers burns at his chest, hitches and catches low down because he can remember with very intimate detail exactly what it feels like to run his hand within the chestnut mass, and glance at her scalp. Each wave of softly curled hair seems to sing to him, call for his touch, as she twirls it endlessly around her finger.

He wants it all to tumble across his face as she leans over him, he wants to bury his nose in it and inhale the very essence of her being. Squirm deep down inside and absorb absolutely everything she has to offer.

Castle watches as she twirls again, dancing the strand between her fingers until she runs it softly under her own cheek, against her bottom lip, it is the sexiest thing he has ever seen her do. He feels his own mouth drop open, preparing to speak but she suddenly starts to read, from memory as her eyes stay closed, his words again.

"That had been her…"

"…salvation." Her voice is soft and gentle as she lets the word loose, but his, as he speaks in time with her, is questioning, because surely she isn't really implying that about him…because she, to him, is absolutely everything. And there is no way _he_ can be _her_ salvation.

It isn't possible.

Kate lifts her head, eyes wide at his voice, blinking slowly, Castle moves to step forward and seems to change his mind. Only she doesn't want that anymore and Kate shifts her feet, a gesture, as she makes space for him next to her. He comes more tentatively than she would have expected...feet in slow shuffle as if worried he will spook her and she huffs out a gentle laugh. Except it's not really funny how much she as spun him in circles.

Castle draws level with her and extends his hand, wanting to take the book from her only Kate has other ideas and instead of giving him the novel, she catches his hand with her own, snags him tight and yanks him onto the cushion next to her.

He lands with a thud, watches as she bounces a little to the other end of the couch, glaring at her before snatching the book out of her other hand and laughing.

"Hey," she reaches across him. "I was reading that."

Castle holds the book out of her grasp, above his head watching as she glares. "You had your eyes closed," he scoffs. "You are extraordinary but even you can't read with your eyes closed."

She gapes at him "I…give it back."

He shakes his head, watching as she pulls back to her side of the couch.,but her bent knees are still facing him and taking a slight liberty. He uses them as leverage as he leans back, one elbow balanced as he starts to read from where she left off.

"The time had first slowed down, and then stood still for Nikki." He begins. His voice is deep and soothing and Kate finds her eyes close briefly. This is something she has imagined and fantasized about for such a long time and she didn't even have to verbalize it, he just knows. She lets out a soft sigh, a rush of near contented air and opens her eyes again to find him looking at her.

She clears her throat finally, refusing to be embarrassed. "Go on." She says, pointing at the page.

He gives her a little smirk, and then lets his eyes rest on the words, one hand holding up the book while the other lays in the space between the pages. "The ensuing minutes had no definition."

Kate keeps watching, staring at the page, and waiting; because she knows he will look at her again. The odd tug of impending intimacy has settled between them again, his words fitting so eerily and accurately with them now as they sit.

"And strangely," his eyes dart to her, and she gives him a look. "No sequence." He waggles his eyebrow, she hits his shoulder. "A psychologist might say she didn't shut down, she surrendered."

She did. She had and he knew, he waited and gave her the strength she needed to find her feet again, he gave her the space she needed to get to the point where she could surrender in a whole different way.

"After the tense ordeal of being hunted, shot at, evading and then doing some killing of her own," His voice pitches, and then he pauses, the next word coming out exactly as it sounds. "Heat released control."

It's like he's asking her to, like finally they should give in, they don't need control, they just need each other.

"For her it was the greatest luxury of survival."

Kate closes her eyes, trying not to hum in agreement, and continues to listen to him read aloud to her. She's so lost in his voice that she's startled when his back comes off her knees. She opens her eyes to see him leaning back against the cushions now and looking at her with a mixture of curiosity, and what is that... satisfaction?

He offers her the book. "Your turn?" He asks.

Kate purses her lips, and shakes her head, sitting up beside him to look at the pages. "I like to listen." She replies, quieter than she meant. She pulls herself nearer, settles into his side, ignoring the look of shock as she moves willingly and isn't pulled by the freedom, the excuse she finds in sleep.

He gives her a smile, and then turns back to the page. As he begins to read again, Kate slips away from the loft, and the study. Not so much hearing what words are being spoken, but the tone of his voice, it soothes at her soul and awakens parts of her heart she thought were missing.

It doesn't take long, it never does and soon she's feeling the pull, that Castle-ache she spends so much of her waking life burying away, and she moves towards him, her shoulder resting against his. His voice also makes her calm enough to sleep and it's not long before her head drops to his neck.

"You awake there Kate?" He asks, his voice is not so much a question, as it is hopeful, or expectant. It comes from deep within his throat, and pang enters her heart pleasantly at the sound.

"Mm hmm." She replies, breathing in the smell of him. He is a powerful drug, an elixir of dream and sensation that she guzzles down, revels in.

She feels him turn his head down to look at her, and she opens her eyes so he can see she is in fact awake, before he continues his smooth serenade from the passages of his love letter. He's warm against her cheek, and she rubs her skin along his shirt until her nose nearly brushes his throat.

He only pauses for a moment, and she thinks she feels him shiver, before he's reading again. Kate watches the muscles in his throat constrict, and dance as he speaks. It's hypnotizing and she wonders what it looks like when the words flow from his fingers. Surely with more ease then he speaks, but even that is entrancing.

He turns the page. At the corner of her eye she sees the way he caresses the edge of the paper before settling it down, his flow of words do not even pause. But then again, he did write this. He can probably recite it by heart. His head moves a little, he's looking to the other side of the page already but the words are not registering, and his voice has become a melody in her mind and heart. She sighs, looking at his neck again, wanting to feel the vibrations.

She smiles, thinking back to the dream she had, where this all began, and now, she is certain she was awake, she had to have been for some of it, the pull of him and all that exists between then is just to strong and she wants to replay it.

She licks her lips.

All she has to do is tip her head slightly upward and press her soft pouty skin to his jugular.

When her lips meet his warm flesh, she almost sighs, it's exactly as she remembers and imagined and yearned for. She ignores his reaction, the way his body tenses and his words stop halfway out of his mouth.

She ignores the pause because she's not going to stop. She's here now and she might as well dive right in, she wants to. Kate Beckett has had enough with waiting and delaying.

She opens her mouth this time, pressing harder, urgency behind her movements, darting her tongue out. A smile breaks on her lips as she does it again, and again. When the first press elicits a gasp, she feels triumphant when he fails to hold onto a small moan.

"Kate." His voice is a strained whisper and the book nearly falls off his lap. "Wake up."

He goes to move away, but she snakes her arm out, grabbing the other side of his neck and pressing his throat against her waiting mouth. "Shhh." She blows against his neck, her lips puckering against his skin as she does so.

"You're dreaming again." He says, but he does not move, in fact, his hands are in fists and his back is stiff. She can see the strain of resistance that winds around him, through him, he is the most amazing person, the most wonderful man.

"I'm not," She whispers again moving her kisses until she meets his jaw. He's trembling. "This is all me, Castle." She reassures, touching his cheek with feather light fingers and turning him towards her.

"Kate _please_ wake up." His voice is a buried whisper that hardly makes it past the crack in his chest. But she seems to sense it, lays her hand over it whilst the other gentles his face. Kate's lips remain steady at the thudding pulse and she can't help the noise of appreciation that leaves her mouth.

The soft sound skims his neck and she presses into him further. He smells divine, familiar, and safe, exciting, intoxicating and just…_him_. She wants to kiss him but his hands remain impassive and her angle is making it awkward.

She huffs a laugh into his neck and finally feels him startle. Kate leans back, pulling her knees under her so she's a fraction higher than him. Her hand not leaving his face and he can finally see her eyes are open, see she's awake and neither one of them is dreaming.

"I'm not asleep, Castle." She encourages, kissing the side of his mouth, and caressing the edge of his face. Now that she's started this, she never wants to stop feeling his skin under her hands, his body safe with her.

But he distracts her, leaning forward and looking past her.

"What are you doing?" She asks watching his eyes dart around the room quickly before settling back onto hers.

"I was checking for gorillas," he looks behind her again. "Or ninja squirrels, mops?" His words are silly, comical even, but his eyes betray the truth. He really is so worried about this not being reality, that he's looking for fiction. "What if someone walks in?"

"Don't even joke about that." She threatens softly, tugging lightly at his ear and he nods remembering all the times they have been interrupted and dragged apart. He lets out a long sigh, his head tipping forward as he does.

"You're not dreaming Castle," she states with conviction and determination, after all these years maybe it's time she started making _him_ believe in things and a good place to start is with herself. She will make him believe in her.

Her hand roams down his face, his neck, where she can feel his pulse quickening, to then spread across his chest again. Up and under his chin, she pulls lightly and just as she hoped he would, he turns towards her, "but I promise if you are and they are bad, I'll wake you up," her hand skims across his brow, down under his jaw, her thumb skirting his eye. Those wonderful eyes. She leans forward and settles a kiss to the rise of cheek bone under his left eye, feeling his lashes stutter against her at the feel of her lips.

And in that moment she finally wakes him up to the reality. She's here.

His hand lifts, finally, at last, and cups her cheek, and she's soft and warm and so very real beneath his finger tips that it's almost impossible to comprehend. His hand settles in her hair, and he drags it around, pulling a sweeping cascade of it across her shoulder, she watches his eyes tender but dark, heated as he plays with it, mumbling something under his breath as he twirls it between his fingers.

"It's like porn…" he breathes into it as he brings it closer to his lips, she can feel him kissing her through her hair "The most beautiful, artistic, erotic…"

His entire body seems to freeze and he pulls her close so he can stare into her eyes, there is something entirely new etched behind them.

"What if they are good dreams?" He asks her as his thumb brushes her lip, pressing, testing the bottom one. "What if they are _really_ good dreams?" His eyes linger on her because she is a good dream, she is his _every_ dream, waking, sleeping, day or night and she's so close.

She tips forwards, raising herself on her knees to shuffle closer, pull him up and nearer. "I promise Castle, whatever dreams may come we will face them together," Her voice is tender, the most he's ever heard from her, and his heart swells. "But for now," she moves closer again, her hair falling across her arms as she leans into him. "Will you just shut up before someone comes in and…"

She doesn't need to finish the sentence, not that he gives her the chance anyway. Both His hands slip up to her waist, his fingers tight so he can pull her into his lap. Sit her across his knees as one hand stays light and probing at her ribs, causing a shiver to run through her, while his other one feathers his long touch, fingers splayed, across the nape of her neck.

It all happens in the space of a second and then he's kissing her

His mouth is a dream against hers, a memory, and an ache. Kate winds her arms around his neck, holding on as she opens for him, her mouth, her heart, her life. Finally, in this one moment they have been heading towards for such a long, agonized, teasing amount of time.

The kiss is a soft stroke of warm lips and barely there brushes of tongue. It's a build-up, a lead in and so very them. It flows back and forth with each murmured breath and soft caress the way their banter flows, the way their conversations flow leaving them both warm and eager. There is a give and take, a tug and pull that envelopes them like the first leading steps of a dance. His final sweep across the roof of her mouth and the way she sucks on his bottom lip adds to the static cling that lingers between them.

He pulls back before she does, so he can watch her, stare at her, drink her in and wonder. His voice takes them both by surprise "Are you sleepy Kate?" His hands linger across her hip bone, tugging her nearer, relishing the swish of her silken hair as she shakes her head. The light squeeze from her hips as she leans into him is echoed by his tightened grip at her thigh, a balance, a rhythm found.

"Are you?" She mumbles in that slightly dreamy seductive tone that just screams 'take me to bed'. She waits for him, watches the slow shake of his head in response.

His hands slide higher, skimming her waist, thumbs suddenly at the edge of her ribs, before moving across the sides of her breasts and onto her shoulders. He slides higher as she shudders until he is cupping her face and he pulls her down "I don't think I will be tired for at least…two days."

Two whole days, stretched between them, full of meaning and promise.

Two days.

He presses his lips back to hers again, feeling her smile against him as he does, well aware that the last thing either of them will be thinking about tonight is sleeping.

_**THE END**_

* * *

><p><strong>Kimmiesjoy: I dedicate my half of this story to AlwaysCastle for keeping me in line whilst writing it, and for teaching me the true meaning of Gorillas. I will never look at them in the same away again.<strong>

**AlwaysCastle: And I dedicate my half of this story to my great partner in crime Kimmiesjoy, for knowing exactly what I want written after I describe it. It's like we are in perfect sync. AND I will never look at a mop the same way again.**

**Also, we both thank _you_ kind readers, for well.. reading, and reviewing! And of course addign us to your fav author/story/alerts :D We have had so much fun collaborating on this for your enjoyment!**

**_What dreams may come, that in their sleep,  
>Entwine two hearts and souls so deep.<br>That with the early light of day, keep them safe  
>Their dreams to stay. <em>**


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